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The Rialto Series. No. 15. August, 1889. Monthly. Subscription $8.00 a year. 
Entered as second-class matter at the Post Office, Chicago, 111 . 


Herbert 

Severance 


BY 

M. FRENCH-SHELDON. 


RAND, McNally & COMPANY, 

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HERBERT SEVERANCE 


Noocl 


M. FEENOH-SHELDON. 




/’O 



RAND, McNally &. Company, Publishers. 


1889 . 






Copyright, 1888, liY M. French Sheldon. 
All rights reserved . 


Sererance. 


t 


3n6crtbe& 

TO 

JULIA T. LINTHICUM, 

A TRUE, BRAVE, SYMPATHETIC, CHIVALRIO WOMAN, 
AND MY STERLING FRIEND. 




CONTENTS. 


CHAP. PAOE 

I. Man and Man • . # • 1 

II. Dick’s Plight . . , • , ,24 

III. The Uncle’s Story . , • , 

IV. Eeflections . . . , , 65 

V. Pleasant Interludes . , , ,69 

VI. Edith’s Theories .... 88 

VII. Homeward Bound . , . . 100 

• VIII. Sweet Charity . , , ,114 

IX. Thb Guardian’s Return . . ' . 128 

X. Scorpion’s Stings .... 135 

XI. Mrs Bleecker’s Coup d’^:tat . , , 168 

XII. Dick Attacked .... 174 

XIII. Clarisse’s Day Dreams , . . 193 

XIV. Connecting Links .... 203 

XV. The Confession .... 223 

XVI. The Unexpected .... 248 


viii CONTENTS. 

OHAP. 

XVII. AcctmsED Vows 
XVIII. Beleaguered Conscience 

XIX. Cabalistic Cupid 

XX. Edith’s Secret 

XXI. Jasper’s Calamity 

XXII. God, Man, and the Devil 
XXIII. Bereavement . 

XXIV. The Verdict . 


PAOB 

267 

284 

288 

296 

311 

319 

346 

366 


XXV. The Marriage 


377 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


CHAPTER L 

MAN AND MAN. 

**Comey fate, into the lists, 

And champion me to the utterance.” 

** ’T3ON honour, my youthful enthusiast, you are 
-L well embarked for a good gulling ! Learn 
to discriminate, to coolly analyse, to pluck apart, 
shred by shred, every fibre of society ; then, not 
till then, will you arrive at an ultimate conclusion 
worth consideration. Mark you, Dick, I say an 
ultimate conclusion, unswayed by the meretricious 
deductions of a mere impressionist” 

Ending his good-natured thrust with just a 
spice of irony, Herbert Severance, a solid man of 
means and flesh, a lawyer by profession, settled 
back into the depths of his well-cushioned easy- 
chair, and proceeded to scan, insinuatingly, his 
caller, who was his nephew. 

The younger man was considerably discomfited 
by having his uncle throw such a damper upon a 
A 


8 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


proposition which he had uttered, — a proposition, 
according to his uncle’s presumption, that was doubt- 
less born of an infatuation, deficient in common sense. 

Undaunted, Richard Drysdale resumed the sub- 
ject his uncle had interrupted to deliver his homily 
and attack — resumed it, too, with a degree of 
vigorous spirit, much as might a wrestler of stamina, 
after having been tripped and badly thrown by an 
adversary of no better metal than himself, gird his 
belt a bit snugger, settle back upon his nerve, and 
renew the struggle with feet more firmly planted. 

Hold, uncle ; not so rapid. This affair of 
which I speak has nothing whatever to do with 
my ‘ discrimination.’ It has none of the insolence 
of my personal opinion, or, as you are apt to con- 
temptuously say, of my 'fads.* I merely repeat to 
you the unanimous decree of every critic, who has 
thus far heard and passed judgment upon the 
genius of my — my — ” He stammered. 

"'Protegee, Dick, that’s the word, my boy, ’tis 
patent to such folly ! ” interjected the uncle, half 
satirically. 

"Very well, so be it, 'my 'protigee.* I reiterate, 
every critic with marked singleness avers that she 
possesses gifts that insure her a glorious future, if 
properly trained ; while her voice is fliexible and 
unalloyed — and — ” 

A distressing hesitancy seemed to make the 
young man’s tongue cling to the unuttered words, 
as though reluctant to part with the precious 
sentiment they embodied. 


MAN AND MAN. 


8 


Herbert Severance, with a merry, teasing twinkle 
in his keen alert eyes, looked his nephew fair and 
square in the face. 

‘‘ Ha ! ha ! ha ! Hick,” he broke out in a gay, 
provoking laugh, ‘‘ my dear boy, don’t hedge, *tis the 
old, old story, eh ? ” Then suddenly curbing his 
outburst, he continued with extreme gravity : 
“ Have I brought you up through all these years, 
based my pride and hope on you, Dick, only to 
have you lose your head, and mortgage your heart 
on an itinerant mummer’s daughter ? And you, a 
young fellow, are fool enough, in your blind infatua- 
tion, to see no impropriety in taking under your 
auspices a young girl ! What sort can she be ? 
And you even ask me to sanction a course by which 
you will squander away your substance, and wreck 
your future on such an one!'* 

At these words a quiver flitted over Richard 
Drysdale’s face, but his uncle in his present de- 
nunciatory mood paused not. 

“Alas, Dick, I hoped for far better and nobler 
results. In truth, I dreamed of one fair woman, 
who should make captive your passionate, impul- 
sive, generous heart — a woman fair, a woman fine, 
a woman all in all you could feel was worth an 
entire life-time of absolute, unalterable devotion ; 
but, instigated by folly, you have disappointed all 
dreams, just at the time when I hoped they were to 
be soon realised, by falling heels-over-head in love 
with an incipient nobody-knows-who- singer I ” 
Richard Drysdale sprang forward as one sud- 


4 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


denly and unexpectedly stabbed in the back, and held 
up his hands admonishingly. A flashing rebuke 
darted from his green-grey eyes, needing no words 
to interpret. 

‘‘ Uncle, stop ! say not one word more ! ” he said, 
as he moved towards the door ; you are profaning 
recklessly, and in unwonted terms, the name of a 
lovely, pure girl, whom, if compromised, unwittingly, 
by me — well, I shall marry, if needs be, this very 
night. Thereby, sir, you will admit I can secure 
the right of championship in her defence, without 
sullying her spotless name ? Good morning ! I 
may be found at the hotel when you are prepared 
to talk as one rational man should to another — 
dispassionately — with me. Good morning.” 

The elder man bounded to his feet. Dazed, yet 
furious at this announcement, he placed his hand 
against the door, preventing his nephew from 
opening it without employing physical force, not 
consonant to his estate. 

A duel of eyes ensued, more murderous, more 
merciless than an encounter with two-edged 
swords. 

Herbert Severance’s eyes glittered as they moved 
rapidly, eyeing the young man from head to foot, 
they seemed lurid with sudden wrath, whereas, 
the nephew’s intense green-grey eyes, superbly 
hostile with repudiating indignation, wera fixed 
unflinchingly upon his uncle, in a regard of deter- 
mination that knew no quailing. They burned 
with an incandescent gleam, almost triumphant in 


MAN AND MAN. 


6 


the consciousness of superior strength in right, yet 
withal tempered by a vague shade of regret. 

At heart Dick loved his uncle ; but, as a man, 
because of that reason, he could not brook inter- 
ference or opprobrium, even from his kin, respecting 
the woman he loved. 

Transformed almost in an instant from chaffing, 
sportive men — easy in deportment as behoves men 
in their station of life, gracious and familiar in 
their attitude to one another — here stood aggressor 
and defender, full of antagonisms, full of resent- 
ments. The affection of years set aside, ties of kin 
threatened a ruthless sunder, because the blood of 
youth was over-quick to seethe with exasperation 
through Richard Drysdale’s veins ; and the domi- 
neering temper of Herbert Severance was too fiery 
and insistent, to calmly suffer defiance from the 
young man whom he bad fostered and educated 
from babyhood as his own son. Having been 
accustomed to exact passive compliance from Dick 
during the long passage of time between extreme 
youth and adolescence, he now forgot that the yield- 
ing nature of a few years agone had, by an inexor- 
able development, become a t3q)e of man — likened 
even to himself — of great personal reliance, and 
characteristic, decisive traits, and no longer bent 
compliantly to his will. 

Dick now naturally held it to be his individual 
right to plan his own future in accordance with the 
dictates of his own personal election. Their present 
attitude was as man and man. 


6 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


Presently, after the lapse of an ambiguous 
moment, when the reason of both men appeared to 
stagger, Dick said in a suppressed tone, such a tone 
as indicated a stress to subdue a war cry : 

** Uncle, I beg of you to permit me to depart. 

I do not wish a stormy scene. I do not wish to 
wound you as you have wounded me.” 

His uncle remained unmoved. 

‘‘For God’s sake, uncle, let me pass ere I lose 
mastery over myself, and am guilty of an act for 
which, out of the heat of anger, I should repent ! ” 
blurted Dick, impetuously. 

Still Herbert Severance remained motionless, his 
hand pressed even firmer against the door, his eyes 
suffused. He essayed to speak, but his emotion 
choked back the words before they gained utter- 
ance. His lips remained mutely parted. Verily, 
the struggle within was mighty. A conflict waged 
between love and tyranny. The crisis, however, 
was speedily attained. 

“ Dick, my boy,” he dropped his hand and stood 
aside, “ forgive me. Let me entreat you not to be 
rash. Come back when we are both calmer, when 
I shall be myself, and talk it all over with me. 
One moment, Dick, listen to me. I have had a 
tragedy in my own life, through a similar affair 

of sentiment, at about your age, and well, my 

dear boy, I cannot possibly see you perhaps stumb- 
ling over a precipice into an abyss, without warn- 
ing you, without striving to check you. Forgive 
my abrupt, harsh method, Dick, and come back 


MAN AND MAN. 


7 


when we shall both be tranquillized. Then I will 
unbosom my heart-history to you, which I think 
you will allow is apology enough for my seeming 
unreasonable course.” 

The earnest, pathetic tone of the man, who now 
pleaded with almost humiliation, so impressed Dick, 
that he turned about, and extended both hands to 
his uncle. 

“ Uncle, I will,” he said in a spirit of manly re- 
conciliation. “ Tis all forgotten now. Only, I deem 
it best to take a turn in the open air before we have 
a talk, ril return in half*an-hour.” 

The young man passed into the hall, took his hat, 
gloves, and walking-stick, going hastily out of the 
front door. His present quickness was not, how- 
ever, the resistless elasticity of his usual exuberant, 
dashing manner, but, rather, the rapid movement 
of a soldier ordered with all despatch to the front 
of an enemy to engage in a pitched battle. He 
pulled his moustache with his disengaged hand, bit 
his lips, looked furtively ahead of him in space, 
struck sharply the ferrule of his walking-stick upon 
the stone pavement, and sighed now and again as 
if wearied with his own thoughts. 

Suddenly, bethinking himself, he drew out his 
watch, glancing eagerly at the time. It was past 
the appointed half hour. He wheeled around, and 
retraced his steps with renewed impetuosity. 

Richard Drysdale was truly an unusual young 
man, alike in outward appearance and mentality. 
Delicate to an apparent degree of fragility, which 


8 


HERBERT SEVERANCE, 


betokened fineness, not weakness, this appearance 
was magnified by his compact, slender figure, his 
medium stature, his fair complexion. His linea- 
ments, taken from a critical point of view, were 
massive in their inherent qualities. A broad, well- 
lined forehead indicated thoughtfulness and con- 
centration. His deep, luminous, green-grey eyes, 
shadowed with long bronze eyelashes, and marked 
by finely - curved, somewhat profuse eyebrows, 
seemed to change colour like chameleons. Actu- 
ally, the thing they looked upon, mentally or ob- 
jectively, imparted a vivid hue and reflection of 
itself to their singularly mottled, ciliary lines, and 
the white of the ball was translucent, opaline — 
they were at once the eyes of a tiger and the eyes 
of a dove. 

His long, thin nose, with sensitive nostrils, 
tinged pink on the inner surface, dilated more or 
less according to the varied play of his emotions. 
His lips, unfortunately, were partially hidden by a 
rather abundant, long moustache, like spun golden- 
bronze, fuU of shimmering shades, but the lower 
lip was frequently disclosed, in consequence of his 
confirmed habit of stroking his Victor Emmanuel 
moustache upward and outward. It was a full, 
sensuous, nervous mouth, which, in repose, pressed 
his gleaming teeth, but in speech, or when over- 
cast by a smile, betrayed a nature teeming with 
humanity and passionate impulses. And yet, it was 
firm to a degree of cruel severity. 

His chin indicated endurance, faithfulness, and 


MAN AND MAN. 


9 


invincibility; insistence for justice, tyranny for 
right. 

All in all, his features, and the fine, spirited 
pose of his head, made a combination sufficient to 
fascinate any girl or woman susceptible to certain 
indices of manly distvagu4 appearances, or to 
attract any man who might be astute enough to 
study these delineations of character stamped 
with such inconcealable force. 

Had he an apparent flaw in his physique, it was 
developed during moments of wrapt meditation, 
when his shoulders would incline slightly forward, 
as is the wont of all delvers in books, who read to 
absolute forgetfulness, and with self-abandonment, 
any absorbing theme. 

The cut of his apparel was distinctly d la mode. 
Every minutia of his toilet, even to his hat, gloves, 
shoes, and walking-stick, or umbrella, was pre- 
cisely patterned to the last edicts of the fickle code 
of fashion. There was no silly snobbishness in this. 
Dick, as a man of proinieties, and an observer 
of good form, refinement, and taste, never essayed 
eccentricities out of, or in, fashion. 

A close observer might almost always notice that 
there was a protuberance on the left side of his 
coat over the breast. This, upon investigation, 
would reveal a certain idiosyncrasy of the young 
man. He invariably stuffed into this pocket 
numbers of letters, cards, and mems.,” which he 
never seemed quite prepared to properly file away 
or discard. It was one of his oddities to have cer- 


10 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


tain documents always to hand — a thing his 
comrades chaffed him considerably about, because 
the subject-matter of his portable budget was as 
frequently changed as the direction of his thoughts, 
or his researches in divers channels. 

Possessed of an artistic, appreciative, sympathetic 
temperament, he was ever and anon engrossed in 
something or some one, requiring somebody’s 
espousal or championship to bring to light, or 
afford to such an one the needed opportunity for 
full development and success. Frequently the 
fellows at the clubs called him the ” Steam-launch 
Rescue y towing in a ship in distress.'* 

Perish the idea that Richard Drysdale was not a 
very clear-headed young man, despite his fadSy 
never to be dissuaded by specious arguments or 
partiality out of his own usually very admirable 
and discriminating judgment. 

A super-acute sense of justice was absolutely 
Dick’s bane. 

Although a fiery, passionate nature, strung to a 
high pitch, a perfect hotspur when incensed, the 
ingenuousness and readiness with which he made 
concessions, noblesse obligCy when once convinced 
that he had committed a fault, made all his friends 
adore him. 

Although not exactly sans reproche — Dick was a 
man, not a saint — be was fair, square, honest, and 
true to the marrow of his bones ; as punctilious 
to the rights of bis friends and fellow-creatures as 
he was insistent for his own ; exacting in some 


MAN AND MAN. 


11 


things to a degree, often exasperating those who 
had to do with him, who were perhaps not prone 
as he to build a foundation, solid and firm, with 
excessively laborious attention to details, before 
attempting a superstructure. 

Deep down in Dicks nature were unknown 
quantities not yet tried, utterly unrevealed to him- 
self. Not infrequently during conversation the 
attrition of thoughts, never thought nor listened to 
till then uttered, aroused his consciousness to a 
latent, covert self, that always set him to intro- 
spection. 

With ill-concealed impatience Herbert Severance 
awaited his return, and fain would have recalled 
and cancelled every word or act which had so re- 
cently caused pain to the young man, in whom, 
after all, his own hourly existence was enwrapt. 
Uneasily he changed from one chair to another. He 
tried to smoke. The very choicest Havana had no 
savour, he threw it away not quarter consumed. 
He took up one after another the daily journals; 
found them one and all amazingly stupid, devoid 
of either domestic or foreign news. He fidgeted 
about the room, looked out of the windows, pulled 
out his watch a dozen times, and as if to advance 
events, twisted the stem- winder so often and so 
tense, that the spring threatened to snap. 

“ Could it be that Dick has changed his mind V* 
he thought, half suspicious it might be so. 

At last the long anticipated ring of the door 
bell was a salutary announcement, dispelling all 


12 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


doubts from the impatient man’s mind. He rushed 
unceremoniously to the door, and had flung it wide 
open before the servant had time to reach the 
landing. 

*'At last, Diet, at last!” exclaimed he. “I 
thought the time would never pass.” 

The young man was rather surprised that his 
uncle should personally admit him. 

“ Well, uncle,” he deferentially lifted his hat in 
a courteous salute, "'you certainly were impatient to 
have out-raced Jones. I thank you for this mark 
of attention;” then apologetically, "‘I am a trifle 
beyond the time set, but my thoughts were so 
preoccupying, I out-walked the distance I could 
possibly cover within half-an-hour. Pardon the 
breach.” 

Come, come, don’t mention it, Dick,” delighted 
to have him back; “I, doubtless, would have made 
the same mistake.” 

So they chatted as they walked through the 
hall to the library at the end of it, in a secluded 
corner of the capacious dwelling. The library door 
was carefully hidden beneath heavy Eastern por- 
tieres. These Herbert Severance drew aside, slid- 
ing back into the wall the highly polished door. 
An ideal room in every appointment was revealed, 
characterized by marked refinement of taste and 
style. 

It was impossible to enter its charmed environs 
without intuitively experiencing the influence of its 
pronounced orientalisms. A dreamy, languid silence 


Man and man. 


13 


prevailed. It was a student’s paradise. There was 
here that rare quality of perfect harmony, and none 
of that oppressiveness so common in rooms sur- 
charged with what Pope’s apt lines signalize : — 

“ Things neither rare nor fair, 

We wonder how the devil they came to be there.” 

No jingling of Orient and Occident, no Egyptian 
loot or Venetian crystal extravagances, no Chinese 
monstrosities stacked in company with Japanese 
rarities or Persian enamels, no oddities of bric-a- 
brac, without significance or subsidiary use, col- 
lected from every dusty, musty, out-of-the-way hole 
and corner in the universe, ticketed beyond mistake 
with name and value. 

There was no crockery strung about the walls, 
or like bulls’ eyes plaqued in velvet, as targets for 
admiration, giving the room the character of a dis- 
orderly pantry. 

The armoury aspect which has become such a 
universal rage in filling up men’s special rooms was 
also absent. Veritably, in this room no decorative 
blizzard had swept, no antiquarian fiend had dis- 
ported. 

Herbert Severance had travelled widely, and 
made extensive and valuable collections, which, 
with a few exceptions, had been in time relegated 
to museums. 

He had always maintained, with the courage of 
a man of decided opinions, that in his library there 
should be no old or new-fangled nonsense. 


14 


fiEREERT SEtERANCfi. 


Here, at least, should prevail an air of poetic 
Orient. Nothing should clash in the harmonious 
unison of it all, except, perhaps, himself and his 
books. 

Here, he persisted, he never intended to sacrifice 
his inbred love of an Oriental interior to tlie be- 
dizened and befuddled lunacies of the modern 
decorator ; spurious as a rule, and too apt to make 
the distraught beholder feel as if some cyclonic 
elements had caused an artistic chaos, or that the 
legitimate denizen had quit his senses. 

A halt long enough to reconnoitre would not be 
amiss, for in this room a mystery is to be divulged 
— strictly reiterating the words of Herbert Sever- 
ance, “ a tragedy ” is here to be disclosed. Sti ange 
recitals will break the silence of long years, the 
follies and foibles of the solid man of sense are to 
be set forth as a danger signal to youthful Dick. 
Therefore, it behoves the curious to cast an eye 
about. 

Two Persian lanterns, which served the place of 
chandeliers, hung quite low at either end of the 
longish room. Their varied coloured facets stud- 
ding the metal-work overshot the lights with 
prismatic gleams. On a richly-carved polished 
table in a corner near one of the windows Avas a 
wrought-brass lamp, evidently used for reading 
purposes. Fauteuils abounded, luxurious lounging 
seats, where one naturally sank into rest, enjoy- 
ing voluptuous comfort midst well-cushioned sides. 
There was a small, low table conveniently standing 


MAN AND MAN. 


15 


beside almost every seat, upon which heavy books 
might be supported. Two long work-tables, under 
the lanterns at either end of the room, were strewn 
with books, pamphlets, newspapers, magazines, and 
every necessary article for writing. Conspicuous 
were two very low, long, broad couches, covered 
with a Persian tapestry that seemed a counterpart 
of the large centre rug covering the main part of 
the parqueted floor. Piich hangings of Persian 
fabrication concealed the enormous book-shelves 
which serried the wall spaces, and curtained the 
windows. 

Over the mantelpiece hung a damascened censer, 
and on both sides, upon the shelf, sat two enamelled 
metal vases, and two or three handsome silver trays, 
holding metal basins, embellished with filigree and 
turquoise, used for tobacco and cigars. 

Veritable Oriental embroideries served for drop 
screens, and draped from view the large open 
fireplace, which was unused at this season of the 
year. And in the midst of these folds, heavy with 
gorgeous aiabesques mas.sed in silk flosses of rare 
C! 'lours, hung a small oil painting in a wrought- 
silvei frame. 

It was a canvas by a celebrated Fiendi artist 
hors concours — a picture upon which every 
one’s eyes w^ere instinctively riveted the moment 
they beheld it. Titled Souvenir/* this picture 
told such a suggestive story, it seemed a pity there 
was no companion pictiire to tell the sequel. 

With all the spirit uelle colouring and ideal con- 


16 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


ception of a master artist who paints without a 
flaw, was here depicted a corner jof a marble sculp- 
tured wall in the garden of Versailles. Just a 
corner embowered without artifice by the trailing 
foliage of overtopping trees. On a marble form, 
close against the wall, sits a lady, her face the 
Marie Antoinette type. She is costumed in the 
fashion of the Louis Seize period, her hair coiffured 
with high puffs, and powdered white ; her dress 
half-mourning ; her plumed-hat thrown carelessly 
to one side upon the inlaid tiles. She sits, her 
dainty feet shod in very high-heeled slippers, orna- 
mented with diamond buckles, extending beyond 
her silk petticoat, so crossed that one heel presses 
upon one ankle, and both toes rest upon the 
tiles. Her hands are dropped in her lap, the 
fingers clasped tightly ; her head bent forward 
until her chin presses upon her swelling bosom, her 
eyes gazing with hazy fixity, entranced by a vision. 

Thus the ci-devant belle med itates. Her th oughts 
are made as visible to the beholder, as to her own 
mind. There against the marble wall, shadowy as 
a vapour through which the devices on its sculp- 
tured surface are descried, appear two figures, not- 
withstanding their transparency, distinct in them-, 
selves. 

A woman — the dreamer herself, but much 
younger then than now — attired in court-ball cos- 
tume blazing with jewels, stands gazing with a 
joyous recognition down upon the courtier on his 
knees at her feet, holding both of her hands, plead- 


MAN AND MAN. 


17 


iiig with an unmistakable arJour that is evidently 
winning his suit. He, too, is in court-ball costume, 
magniticently adorned. An array of orders and 
decorations betokens his rank and importance. 

The expectancy of an impassioned lover, the 
responsiveness of the woman wooed, and almost, if 
not quite, won, make the canvas glow and vibrate 
v.’ith a mysterious life. 

The tender delicacy of treatment, the tone, the 
colour, the finesse, the sentiment, are qualities to 
make this tableau reside for ever indelibly in the 
memory of one who has been privileged to see it. 
And yet it leaves the beholder in a provoking 
wonderment, striving to determine who the woman 
is, — alone, — dreaming. Why is she dressed in 
half-mourning ? 

Despite its title Souvenir*’ there is, after all, 
something that renders this exquisite flower of art 
a nettle — it stings with curiosity. 

With the exception of a study — a head of Jeanne 
D’Arc — over the door, this is the only picture in 
the room. 

Certainly Herbert Severance had brought back 
from the Orient a knowledge of the only way to 
fully enjoy a work of art. 

Between the windows, pulled well out from the 
wall, stood a very handsome capacious desk. At 
this moment quantities of documents, of various 
shapes and sizes, were heaped upon it. And in 
numberless pigeon-holes were packets on packets of 
letters and long legal papers tied up with pink tape, 
B 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


sometimes revealing a red seal appended, very pre- 
tentious, very official. Certain drawers remained 
closed. An unevenly distributed number of sheets 
of foolscap paper, freshly written over, in square 
regularly fashioned chirography, were held in place 
by a heavy silver paper-weight bearing the motto. 
Amor Omnia Vincit, and a date so distinctly im- 
printed as to be decipherable at several paces 
distant. 

Facing this desk was a leather-covered revolving 
writing chair, and underneath it stood a generous 
paper-basket, half-filled with scraps of letters and 
envelopes. 

The two low windows were set in carved wooden 
casements from ceiling to floor, and opened out 
upon a verandah, that just cleared the parterre of an 
enclosed garden. 

On this verandah it was Herbert Severance’s 
habit to sit and smoke for hours, as he cogitated 
upon the difficulties he was likely to encounter in 
pending law-suits, or possibly to permit his thoughts 
to revert to incidents and experiences entirely per- 
sonal. He was a man much given to retrospection. 

Well assured that the door was safely latched, 
the host abruptly turned to his guest. 

“ Dick, sit down, and smoke if you like,” at the 
same time proffering a well-plenished cigar-case. 

Dick took a cigar, and sat down close to bis 
uncle, who had dropped- heavily upon the chair fac- 
ing his desk, also with a cigar between his fingers. 


Man and man. 


19 


Both men, during the ominous moment of em- 
barrassment which inevitably precedes the opening 
of a conversation destined, or pre-siipposed at least, 
to be of importance, and not strictly considered 
agreeable, fooled with their cigars. The matches 
were scratched, when past the daring point applied 
to their cigars, two or three draws and whitfs, a 
supervisory glance at the lighted ends, then an 
outing wave and tap on the corner of the desk given 
to the matches, and all was apparently ready for 
action. 

Herbert Severance cleared his throat, and broke 
the ice. 

‘‘Dick, a while ago I was brusque and seemingly 
unreasonable in my speech and manner to you ; 
but, my dear boy, believe me I was actuated by a 
feeling of chagrin, despair, and true solicitude for 
your future welfare and happiness, not merely 
attributable to selfishness on my part.” Now he 
pulled at his cigar. It cost so much to explain. 
“ I once saw a man, suddenly and most brutally, 
without apparent provocation, smite to the ground 
a child who was innocently playing in a rolling- 
mill. I yelled out ‘ Shame ! * sprang forward with 
clenched fists to deal the wretch a well-deserved 
blow, wdien, great God ! I beheld an enormous 
pair of travelling cranes swing around, dragging 
in the clutch of their iron-toothed jaws a long 
bar of red-hot iron in transit from the furnace 
to the forge. They passed like a fiery Juggeiuaut, 
but harmlessly, just, and no more, cleared the 


20 


n ERB F RT SEVERANCE. 


prostrate child, who was yet crying piteously from 
the stinging hurt of the unexpected blow of the 
man, whose act had so incensed me. He alone 
had seen the impending jeopardy of the little one ; 
there was not one moment for a warning, no time 
to stay the course of the iron monster, and quick as 
thought his presence of mind forced him to fell the 
child to the ground ! ... It was the only chance 
to save him ! Dick, now you understand why I was 
seemingly so unreasonable when you averred you 
should, if needs be, marry to-night. I thought I 
saw 3^ou standing on the extreme edge of an under- 
cut, crumbling, precipice ; below 3^11 an abyss — 
destruction — a life of unhappiness, — whereas, you 
were so self-assured of your own personal safety. 
My boy, I dealt the blow for that reason I ” His 
lips quivered as he spoke rapidly under the excite- 
ment of deep emotion, while a clammy perspiration 
bedewed his forehead, and the arteries on his 
temples were beating like trip-hammers. 

As he had proceeded, he had graduall3^ inclined 
his entire body towards Dick, until, upon finishing 
the words, he was so near that his quick hot breath 
was distinctly perceptible to the listener. Into 
his alert, dart-like eyes had crept a mellow, 
appealing, patlietic look — such a look as is some- 
times noticeable when a friend holds a lonely vigil 
beside the bed of a beloved one, who is succumbing 
to death’s grim fiat, despite all ministering care 
and loving solicitude, despite the fact that the 
friend would surrender his own life as a forfeit to 


MAN AND MAN. 


21 


prolong the life of the one doomed ; a dumb, 
unutterable, eloquent despair ; an inarticulate wail 
for an inevitable pang which lacerates a heart. 

The young man’s face had assumed a sturdy, 
immobile expression at the beginning of the narra- 
tion. He had puffed with the relish of a connois- 
seur the excellent Havana, and had silently thrum- 
med on the arm of his chair, looking about the room 
with irksomeness, much as one who was storm- 
stayed on the road, when a feast awaited him so 
soon as the journey should be terminated. How- 
ever, as his uncle drew his comparison, Dick forgot 
to smoke, forgot to thrum, forgot to be indifferent. 
The colour mounted up to his hair, suffusing his 
face and his swelling throat crimson. He made a 
feint to dissemble his recurrent vexation, which but 
ill- concealed it from his uncle’s incisive gaze. 

To stay an impetuous outburst, Herbert Seve- 
rance, hurriedly, but with distinctness ejaculated : 

“ Dick ! promise me to wait a week, a month, 
wait until I have opportunity to reveal to you a 
story, unknown to any living person but myself ; a 
cruel fate, a tragedy, ' as killing as the canker to 
the rose.’ Will you promise, Dick ? Come, I will 
offer you no other opposition ; aye, my dear boy, 
I will not only comply with your after decision, 
but I will aid and abet your plans. Come, do 
this for me, Dick,” urged he with insistence. 

Richard Drysdale was engaged in a personal 
warfare between conflictiug sentiments. His 
nature did not complacently brook interference in 


22 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


matters personal. His blind, passionate infatuation 
for Clarisse Corneille, his obstinacy in adhering to 
his own opinions until convinced they were wrong ; 
then, to the contrary, his sincere regard for his 
uncle, and his manly nature’s sense of absolute 
justice and fair play, were all up in arms shaking 
his resolution. For the time being he was tossed 
by vacillation. Ultimately, true to his exalted 
nature, he was swayed to accept his uncle’s behest. 
His choler faded. 

With unaffected frankness he extended his hand 
to his uncle, who grasped it fervently. 

“ Well, uncle,” with an air of assumed pleasantry, 
I will comply with your request. When will 
you unveil Isis ?” 

Herbert Severance stroked his forehead, and 
answered his nephew as one in profound thought, 
with a vague, far-away look in his eyes. 

“ I hoped to do so this morning, but this agita- 
tion has overtaxed me, and really I must have a 
brief respite. Say, after dinner to-night, Dick. 
Will that conform with your engagements See- 
ing Dick hesitate, and fearing a negative reply, he 
added, “ It matters not about dinner, nor the late- 
ness of the hour. You know, Dick, I am an owl 
with confirmed nocturnal habits.” 

Very well, say ten o’clock. And now, uncle, I 
must hasten to placate a lady I’ve kept waiting at 
least an hour. Until to-night, au revoir'* 

Richard Drysdale quickly left the library, making 
a rapid departure from the house. The moment 


MAN AND MAN. 


23 


his feet touched the pavement he swung into a 
striding gait, and soon disappeared. 

Meanwhile Herbert Severance had arisen from 
his chair, opened one of the little drawers in his 
desk, and taken therefrom a small square packet of 
letters, which he placed in the inner breast pocket 
of his coat. 

He threw himself heavily upon one of the couches, 
in such a posture as to avert his face, and bury it 
half from view in the downy cushion. Sighing 
deeply, he muttered in a monotonous undertone 
these sinister lines from his favourite poem : — 

“ Meanwhile, the heinous and despiteful act 
Of Satan done in Paradise 

Was known 

In Heaven.” 



CHAPTER II. 


dick’s plight. 


“ Oh, think of what anxious moments pass between 
The birth of plots and their last fatal periods.” 


^EN o’clock tolled out resoundingly through the 



-L moonless and starless night from the neigh- 
bouring church clock, but Dick came not. The 
half hour stroke broke the silence, but yet no Dick. 

Herbert Severance was thoroughly disquieted, 
and began to experience a sickening sense of dis- 
appointment as he waited in his library. All the 
lamps were now lighted, shedding a mellow, bland 
glow over every object. Two of the heavy wall 
draperies were looped back in such fashion as to 
display the books on the shelves. In quest to pass 
the time, he had been reading. But his apparent 
humour was not for his old familiar favourites, as 
he facetiously called them, his ‘‘ pachydermatous, ' 
insensitive companions, who stand any amount of 
abuse or pulling about without flinching, and are 
totally void of the faculty of evincing petty 
objections or monstrous jealousies, if I turn cap- 
tiously from one to another, as might befit a whim.” 

To-night the mottoes in gilded letters above 


DICIvS PLIGHT. 


25 


the cases, usually so trite in their significance, were 
only words to him. “ If you approach them, they 
are not asleep.” “ If you question them, they are 
not secret.” “ If you go astray, they do not 
grumble.” “ They know not how^ to laugh at you 
if you are ignorant.” He kept clenching his teeth, 
making the muscles of his jaws stand rigidly out, 
and his drawn lips nervously working. His face 
was clouded by a haggard expression, impossible to 
conceal, for he wore neither moustache nor beard. 
No fashion had ever deluded him into covering 
up his regular, handsome features. It might be 
through vanity, or it might be merely preference 
and confirmed habit. 

Time had chronicled his fifty-seventh year, yet 
not one invidious trace of decrepitude had assailed 
his hale, active body. The nebulous sprinkling 
amid his raven locks added a glory to his visage, 
which increased as the silver cast predominated. 
Plethora had forbidden the furrows from corrugat- 
ing his forehead, and the wrinkles from defacing, 
with their wizzening pinches, either his eyelids or 
the corners of his mouth. Without a stretch of 
imagination he could be accounted truly a fine, 
portly, well-conditioned, high-bred man of the 
world, whose chalice had been full to the brim, 
and from which he had quaffed long and deep of 
the bitter and the sweet without gluttony. 

Notwithstanding a certain cordiality of address, 
his customary reserve was something not one of 
his familiars ever vouchsafed to encroach upon. 


26 


HEEBERT SEVERANCE. 


It was tacitly admitted round about among his 
acquaintances that he had a history, yet no one 
ventured to speculate thereupon, and no one knew. 
He was accepted as the man they each in turn 
found him to be, in the main beloved and 
respected. 

Impatience and fleeting time kept apace, till 
the one had flown to the “ wee sma’ hours,” and 
the other had plunged the waiting man into a 
fever of doubt and dread ; yet Dick came not. 

Cigar after cigar was smoked in rapid succes- 
sion, filling the room with bluish haze. The laden 
atmosphere, his full throbbing pulses, combined to 
oppress him. Waiting grew intolerable. He 
turned down the lights, flung wide-open both 
windows, and stepped out upon the vine-covered 
verandah to inhale the cool night air. Here he 
sat down upon a rustic chair, to be soon lost in 
reverie. Presently he fancied he saw something 
moving stealthily under the cover of the trees 
between the shrubbery. He listened attentively 
to catch the crackling of the sand, or a footfall, 
and strained his vision trying to penetrate the 
darkness in vain. Peer intently as possible, he 
saw nothing except the nodding branches casting 
fitful shadows in the sombre light, and heard but 
the gentle soughing of the mild breeze amid the 
leafage. 

‘‘ Fool ! fool that I am ! ” he ejaculated aloud 
' in a spirit of vexation, to allow my nerves to 
play such pranks with my imagination. All, too. 


dick’s plight. 


27 


because that young scapegrace has not kept his 
appointment. Absurd ! ” 

Just then the door-bell rang, abruptly putting an 
end to his soliloquy. He started to his feet, and 
entered the library with the intention of admitting 
the caller personally. As he crossed the room, he 
furtively glanced back at the open windows, and 
checked himself. R-eturning with an air of pre- 
caution, he closed and fastened them both securely, 
dropping the heavy curtains, which he carefully 
adjusted so as to preclude prying eyes, if there 
had been any, only in time to greet Dick’s rap 
at the library door. 

Come in ! ” . 

Dick presented himself attired in evening dress. 
Half apologetically he said, “ I bog your pardon,” 
almost tumbling into a chair, utterly exhausted. 
“ It was deuced hard to get away at all ; and then, 
only after an avowal that I was pledged by a matter 
as serious as life and death.” 

Something unusual had befallen him. There 
was an uneasy,, flurried expression to his eyes, now 
circled by deep purple shadows. His voice and 
speech bore an indefinable repression. His dissimu- 
lation was probably assumed as a masque, but such 
did not disguise his appearance. All this was in- 
stantaneously observed by his uncle’s ferret eyes. 
Dire suspicion flew like lightning to his brain. 
Dick might have broken his promise. 

Too experienced and too wary a lawyer was 
Herbert Severance not to comprehend it would be 


28 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


the height of folly to propound such a suspicion, 
unless he desired an instant and final rupture. 

He strove to liberate Dick from his infelicitous 
predicament, as well as to allay an idea which per- 
chance might be creeping into the young man’s 
intuitions, that both his delay and his condition 
were being questioned. 

Never mind, Dick, ’ were his comforting words ; 
“jmu remember I told you, in truth you know — 
owl that I am — one time is as good as another. 
You look fatigued. Will you take something to 
refresh you ? ” 

These words were no sooner spoken than Richard 
Drysdale’s head drooped forward upon his breast in 
a dead swoon. 

Imagine the uncle’s horror. So struck with 
consternation for a moment, he was riveted to his 
chair, and could not move. After the first shock 
had passed recovering his presence of mind he lifted 
Dick bodily from the chair to one of the lounges, 
threw open the windows, and rang vehemently and 
repeatedly to summon the servants. 

Quick footsteps came fairly jumping up the stairs, 
and his valet unceremoniously rushed into the 
room with an affrighted look. 

‘^Well, sir!” 

Jones, look alive! See, Master Dick has 
fainted. Call the other servants, and fly for the 
doctor. Look alive! my man; there’s no time to 
waste ! ” 

The well-trained valet dashed out to return 


dick’s plight. 


29 


instantly, bringing a carafe of brandy and accessories, 
placed them upon a table beside his master, then 
betook himself for the doctor with break-neck 
speed. 

What a sight to witness the tender, wild solicitude 
displayed by Herbert Severance. He bent over 
Dick’s senseless form, striving to place a few drops 
of brandy between his pallid lips, and moistened 
his face with a pocket handkerchief he had dipped 
into the glass. 

Verily, his gentleness oiitrivallcci the touch of any 
woman. 

The suspense, the -agony he experienced were 
depicted on his face in a beatific expression of 
sympathy, love, 'willingness to immolate himself if 
he could ward off suffering from this young life, so 
endeared to him. The thumping throbs of his 
heart seemed to voice over and over again, “ Mea 
culpa! Mea culpa! Mea culpa!"' Recrimina- 
tion was running riot through every atom of his 
sentient being. In some inexplicable way he felt 
himself to be directly associated with Dick’s present 
state. 

The prolonged unconsciousness aroused the 
appalling dread that this luas death. He could not 
bear the thought, it threatened to madden him. 
In the supervening moment of trial and torture, 
there welled up from his soul a heartrending cry 
for supreme help : 

0 God, spare my boy ! ” 

Hot tears gushed from his eyes. Just one 


80 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


spasmodic overflow, when the floodgates of emotion 
were deluged, and powerless to withstand the 
surgiug flood. . . . Suddenly, by a mighty com- 
mand of latent will, he gathered mastery over him- 
self. The storm of his present agony abated. . . . 
A calm prevailed, allowing him to hastily review 
every resource, within his immediate scope, to aid 
the sufferer. 

He proceeded to unbutton Dick’s collar, unfasten- 
ing successively every portion of his attire that 
seemed to restrict free respiration. He chafed, or 
rather slapped Dick’s bluish hands, drew the 
fainted form down flat on the lounge, and held his 
nostrils, as he placed his own mouth over Dick’s 
pallid lijDS, endeavouring clumsily to force his own 
breath into Dick’s quiescent lungs ; at the same 
time recalling, and putting into requisition, divers 
instructions of his doctor — a good soul who was 
ever proffering to sucklings and blunderers, 
advice “ in case of an accident or family emer- 
gency.” So he pressed and relaxed at regular 
intervals, his outspread hands over the patient’s 
abdomen. 

At length, Dick gave a moan, breathed with 
difficulty, and slowly opened his eyes, turning them 
about in a dazed, wondering manner; finally they 
inquiringly sought his uncle’s. 

It’s all right, my dear boy,” at once said the 
uncle, in an assuring tone, ‘‘just take a nip of 
brandy.” He suited the invitation by placing a 
glass partially filled to Dick’s lips. He swallowed 


dick’s plight. 


81 


it ■without effort, and forthwith revived, turning 
smilingly towards his uncle. 

“Uncle,” feebly spoke Dick, “these attacks 
make sudden and close calls upon a fellow. I don’t 
half like it. . . . Have I been unconscious long ? ” 

“ No, only a few minutes. But, you see, Dick, 
I am such a bungling old chap, I didn’t know 
what to do at first, and made a general fool of 
myself by losing my head. I’ve sent for the 
doctor, but, as usual with the medical man, he Avill 
blandly get in at the finish.” 

Neither of the men had noticed the presence of 
two maid-servants, who stood timorously on the 
threshold, goggled-eyed and agape, not venturing 
to tender any assistance. 

Hurrying steps w^ere heard on the pavement 
approaching the front door, — the occasion for both 
of the maids to huddle close together, scared almost 
out of their feeble senses, to admit the doctor and 
valet. 

With a sort of frantic clutch at the door-knob, 
and a nervous twitch, they jerked open the door, 
which flew back with a bang against the wall, 
making them shrink back in a startled way. 
They actually expected an unseen ghoul to rise up 
and grab them. Ignorance and superstition are 
the progenitors of such nameless terrors, usually 
rendering this class of persons helpless in an emer 
gency. 

Hearing the commotion, with effort Dick pulled 
himself together, and aw^aited the doctor’s appearance. 


$2 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


Dr Covert accosted him on enteriag the room, 
not in the set professional tone of a general practi- 
tioner, that has the effect of seeming to imply that 
all suffering is a downright sham, and that the 
particular patient being diagnosed is a victim of 
hypochondria, or, going to the other extreme of the 
high-fee specialist, with an assumption of great 
alarm, implying that there never ivas such another 
case — never, certainly with such obscure and per- 
plexing complications, requiring the greatest skill to 
possibly pull the patient through, thereby making 
recovery just short of a miracle. Not thus, but 
rather as a family friend who keenly sympathises 
with the patient. Dr Covert took Dicks hand 
in a caressing fond way, and, the while, cleverly 
slipped his fingers over his pulse, noted the beats 
quite casually, saying in a jocular although gentle 
tone : 

“ Mr Drysdale, do you consider this proper 
behaviour, to disturb an old friend between night 
and morning for a drop of physic? Confess, my 
reckless friend, to a category of indiscretions, such 
as late hours, champagne suppers, other dissipations 
far too innumerable to name, &c., &c., &c. ! and, 
to top off, acknowledge that you are a trifle hys- 
terical? Cause — some lovely creature, who has 
kindled a fervent passion in your heart, and fully 
reciprocates ; but, opposition fierce ; papa an old 
griffin, or a dragon of a guardian ; and, well, you 
have keeled over on the rough road of true love I 
eh ? and need a tonic.” 


dick’s plight. 


S3 


This little trick of the doctor’s, although crowd- 
ing close upon tl;e truth, had effectually banished 
any restraint on the part of the patient, so that in 
veering round to the serious, all was natural and 
unstrained. 

So much for the non -alarmist methods of a 
capital doctor, who believes in this species of mind- 
cure, if in none other. 

“But, joking aside, tell me, Mr Drysdale, have 
you ever had a similar attack before V* 

Dick nodded affirmatively, but spake not. The 
doctor slipped his hand up beneath the patient’s 
waistcoat, under his left shoulder, unceremoniously 
placing his ear close to Dick’s chest over the heart. 
This done, without a change in the expression of 
his pleasant sphynx-like countenance, he quietly 
opened his medicine-case, which, by-the-by, he 
always exercised the precaution to carry with him 
“ in case of an emergency or accident,” whether on a 
round of professional calls, or merely paying friendly 
visits. 

“Jones, bring me a tumbler half-full of water 
and a teaspoon.” The servant despatched, the 
doctor said earnestly, “ Mr Drysdale, I may prudently 
tell you that there is a manifestation of weakness in 
the valves of your heart. According to Fothergill, 
we will administer digitalis and hyoscyamus. Ahem ! 
by-the-by, did you have rheumatism during* your 
old campaigning days ? ” 

“ Bless your heart, doctor ! ” laughingly inter* 
rupted Herbert Severance, “ Dick was a baby 
c 


34 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


during the war ! I declare your hobby gallops you 
along at a ridiculous rate, with your theory of 
‘ rheumatic diathesis,' ‘atheromatous conditions of the 
arteries,’ and ‘their sequels; ’ you see I’ve it down 
to a fine point, and all based on ‘ army exposure ! ’ 
Oh, doctor ! so much for having an ex-army 
surgeon for your medical man. Doctor, you’re 
a delicious theoretical crank ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! ” 
After this sally the doctor also laughed good 
naturedly, and lamely responded, as a weak attempt 
to repudiate what he felt to be too true : 

“ It takes a' long time, as the common saying 
goes, ‘ to teach an old dog new tricks.’ ” 

The medicine was soon mixed, and a stiff dose 
administered to Dick. He had already revived so 
thoroughly, he was essaying to rise from his recum- 
bent position. His countenance had lost its pallor. 
He began to assure the doctor how sorry he was to 
have disturbed him. Then, with peculiar direction 
of purpose, lowering his voice to a confidential tone, 
“ Had I better see you to-morrow, doctor ? I 
cannot take time just no\V to indulge in a lie-a-bed 
illness. . . . Imperative business presses me, doctor. 
. . . Absolutely, 1 must not he ill.'* 

The doctor had slowly shaken his head in a 
dubious manner. 

“ You stop here to-night,” he queried, “ or go to 
your own quarters, eh ? ” 

“ Here,” answered Dick, “ that is, provided 
uncle will tolerate such a nuisance, and self-invited 
guest. What do you say, uncle ? ” 


dick’s plight. 


85 


"‘Dick, it is too outrageous to put it that way. 
You vex me. You know I am never so happy as 
when my roof shelters you,” reproachfully retorted 
Herbert Severance. 

“That’s settled,” added tlie doctor. “And now 
I must enjoin quiet upon you, my young miscreant ; 
for the remedies given in my heavy artillery doses 
have sometimes a tendency to excite certain brain 
centres before they begin to work perceptible good. 
However, take a dose every half-hour while awake, 
Mr Drysdale. Good night. I’ll call before you 
are up in the morning.” 

The servant started to usher the doctor out, but 
Mr Severance interfered. 

“ Jones, stop with Mr Drysdale ; I’ll see the 
doctor to the door.” 

Once they were without the library, and the door 
securely shut, he looked anxiously at the doctor. 

“Is Dick dangerously affected?” he inquired in 
a low searching tone. 

“ Yes, and no,” paradoxically answered the 
doctor, continuing, “Sudden excitement, joy, 
anger, or despair might kill him like a shot. Yet 
with his youth, and tenacity for life, he may out- 
live us veterans. At all events, let’s hope so. I 
suspect it’s mental worry, more than physical 
ailments, that affects men of his temperament. 
Passivity, equanimity, and repose are the necessary 
qualities for Mr Drysdale to cultivate. For this 
cogent reason, his case is extremely difficult. If 
ail I hear be true, all those elements have long 


36 HERBERT SEVERANCE. 

since been cast out of his life in his ceaseless drive 
on the high-pressure principle. Hang it all ! there 
is nothing for a physician to do in such a case — 
except in an emergency like to-night^ — but chide 
and warn, turn parson and preach ; nothing — 
nothing else — I assure you. Medical science is 
not worth the powder to blow it up, unless you 
win the co-operation of the patient. However, I 
don’t propose to deliver a lecture. Until to-morrow, 
my friend, free your mind from anxiety. I do not 
apprehend a recurrence at once. Good-night.” 

At this parting admonition, seasoned^, with a 
suspiciously uncertain hope, the doctor departed, 
and Herbert Severance repaired to the library, 
determined to caution Dick. 

'‘Jones, prepare Master Richard’s room,” ordered 
he ; and the well-trained servant made a hasty exit, 
knowing it was a gentle hint that his master wished 
to be left alone with Master Dick. 

“ Dick, the doctor says emphatically that you 
must be very careful of yourself ; avoid undue 
excitement of all sorts, not over-work, take rest — ” 
The young man broke out with an excitability, 
augmented probably by the draughts of brandy and 
stiff doses of the drugs. 

“ There ! there ! uncle ! you know my motto — 
Dum vivimus vivamus ; and when I am com- 
pelled to abdicate my fulness of life, to be coddled 
and nursed, I’ll give the whole thing up and take 
a whirl into terra incognita ! ” 

“ But, Dick, do be rational, and weigh the doc- 


dick’s plight. 


37 


tor’s advice. You know he is not an alarmist, and 
only cautions you to preclude lamentable results,” 
quickly interjected Herbert Severance. 

“No, no, uncle, restraint goads me — lashes up 
all my combativeness. Hobble a race-horse, 
pinion Mercury’s winged-feet, bid the tides hold 
back at ebb, and trickle their flow through some 
trumpery, grotesque gargoyle, expect the sun to 
filter its rays through a pin-hole, and you might 
secure the same result that would befall the restric- 
tion of my life by a Set schedule of ‘ musts ’ and 
' mustn’ts,’ ‘ lets ’ and ‘ hindrances.* Bah ! such 
prudence is decrepit, senile, old-womanish. I say, 
once and for all, strangle her ! for I’ll take none of 
her nauseous pap and milk-sop. No ! no ! / must 
— I shall live to the utmost, until I face death.” 

I'liis was so characteristic of Dick’s professed 
theory and indefatigable method of life, his uncle 
could not suppress a smile, as the splenic volley of 
impulsive words flew hot from his lips. 


CHAPTER HI. 


THE uncle’s story. 

Why need a man forestall his date of grief, 

And run to meet what he would most avoid ?” 

“1 TNCLE,” Dick resumed, in a serious vein, 
after the lapse of a moment, let us indulge 
in no more nonsense of this order. You will have 
the goodness to recall the fact that I came here 
with a special purpose ; and, now that the un- 
pleasant episode I untowardly visited upon you has 
passed — thanks to your admirable care — let me 
urge you to comply with the tenets of our compact 
like men and lawyers.” 

“ Dick,” his uncle nervously ventured, “ I dare 
not risk exciting you to-night. Let our conversa- 
tion be adjourned till morning.” 

Angered by these words, the young man rose to 
his feet, and commenced to pace the room. 

Uncle,” said he, in a piqued tone, “ 1 counted 
on your compliance, otherwise nothing could have 
induced me to return. You don’t know what I have 
been through. I assure you, not one moment of rest 
can I take before you allay a thousand odious mis- 
trusts, which our morning’s conversation and later 
occurrences have marshalled forth, equipped mali- 


THE uncle’s story. 


39 


ciously, to torture me out of my reasou. . . 

He tossed his head upwards, aud pressed his 
temples with his clenched fists, pacing with spurts 
of rapidity. Great God ! I believe, uncle, that 
hell is made up of doubts and demoned with in- 
sinuations, akin to those, I have heard voiced 
this night by an invidious, loathsome, mortal 
coward, who dared not name his authority for the 
blasting things he shamelessly bruited about. 
Coward ! coward ! he directed at random his poi- 
soned missiles to rankle in the hearts of the inno- 
cent ! Oh, heavens ! if only I could know — know 
beyond suspicion — whether I am the victim of an 
hallucination — whether the odious calumnies be 
founded — whether I am, after all, the dupe of a 
scheme, laid so deep and with such cunning, it 
defies detection ; or whether, as I fain believe, they 
spring from the wicked heart of a vile depredator 
of every sacred trait of pure, noble womanhood ! 
O, God ! if I could only know ! If I could only 
know !” As if these wild, significant words clove 
his heart, they were gasped out frantically. 

Meanwhile, he had paced to and fro with such 
rapidity, he 'was exhausted, and compelled to 
resume a recumbent position. 

Herbert Severance was amazed, but remained a 
speechless witness to the wild, passionate outburst. 

Dick’s eyes roved restlessly over the room 
as he lay panting. Finally they caught sight of 
the picture ‘‘Souvenir.” A swift consciousness 
recalled his thoughts to the present time and place. 


40 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


He vaulted from his emotioual frenzy into a fresh 
mood. 

Who posed for the lady in that picture, 
uncle ?” The query was so incongruous and fuga- 
•nous, that it bordered on the ridiculous. Hid 
you not many years ago tell me that you knew the 
model?” 

A shadow darkened Herbert Severance’s face. 

“ Yes, Hick. But let bygones be bygones. It 
is a hobby of mine to think now-a-days that I am 
wise, and that 

‘ My strict hand 

Was made to seize on vice, and with a grip 
Squeeze out the humour of such spongy souls 
As lick up every idle vanity !’ 

That, Hick, was one of my youthful vanities.” 

That’s all very fine, uncle, but it in no way 
allays my curiosity. Ho you know, uncle, that I 
have a strong inkling that I have the pleasure, or 
misfortune, I know not which yet, to number the 
daughter — ” 

“ Hick ! what in the name of God do you 
mean?” fiercely cried out Herbert Severance. 
“Explain — tell me what hideous joke you seek to 
perpetrate upon me ? Remember, young man, 
there are circumstances in every mortal’s life, re- 
specting which all intimation on the part of 
another is a profanation meriting the severest 
chastisement. What do you mean ? ” 

Both men had sprung to their feet, and were 
now standing confronting each other face to face, 


THE uncle’s story. 


41 


impelled by an instinct every human being feels 
when treading upon debatable premises, to gain a 
firm footing, uncramped by chairs or corners. 

‘^As I was about to remark,” Dick resumed his 
speech in lieu of a direct rebuttal, with a touch of 
startled agitation in his accents, ‘‘ I believe I know 
the daughter of the lady who sat for that por- 
traiture.” He pointed to the picture. And sin- 
gularly enough, as it seems to concern you so 
trenchantly, it is she whom I desire to wed 1 ” 
‘'Dick,’' his uncle fairly gasped, “Dick, do you 
veritably mean the daughter of that lady ? ” 
pointing to the picture, “ or am I stark mad ? ” 

He had fixed his eyes upon Dick’s face, and 
seeing him nod assent, fairly reeled to the open 
window, clutched firmly both sides of the case- 
ment to prevent himself from falling, as he swayed 
to and fro, back and forth, as a ship eddying in a 
whirlpool, and gasping for breath like one suffo- 
cating. 

Dick remained standing motionless. Dum- 
founded by his uncle’s circumstantial confession, 
although entirely inferential on his own part, he 
too felt his brain whirling in a maelstrom which 
threatened to engulf his reason. Through the dizzy 
vagaries, prompted by his present cerebral excita- 
tion, came tripping the thought, this was — not 
knowing what — 

“ The heinous and despiteful act 
Of Satan done in Paradise,” 


42 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


that his uncle was forever quoting, and was then 
the knowledge of it to blight his heaven ? 

These fragmentary thoughts now swirled madly 
through his brain, taxing his present lack of strength, 
with peril to his fortitude. To him the wind was 
not tempered. Dread was breeding a calamity. 
He felt the necessity of asserting his manhood, or 
of being swamped. All the hideous rumours of the 
club came back, rendering his misery more abject. 
Some step must be promptly taken, for this sus- 
pense was destroying him. By a supreme effort 
he dragged himself to the window, convulsively 
grasped his uncle’s arm — 

Come, uncle,” he aspirated, rather than spoke, 
in a whisper. “ Come, sit down. Clear up this 
mystery. Suspense, I avow, is nigh wrecking my 
reason.” Gaining self-control more firmly : Come, 
perchance you will also experience relief, and 
perhaps we may sustain each other. Only let me 
know the worst at once.” 

Dick’s earnestness told forcibly upon his uncle. 
He turned, and allowed himself to be led by the 
young man like a child to an arm-chair, where he 
sank down as one who finds all power to maintain 
his weight upon his legs suddenly collapse. 

Compensatory for physical failure in his stamp 
of nature comes a mental force, which imparted 
to him an unmistakable spirit of resolution to 
achieve a certain purpose at any cost of abnegation. 

Dick, greatly overcome, stretched himself at full 
length upon one of the lounges, facing his uncle. 


THE uncle’s story. 


43 


A sullen calm reigned. The very walls seemed 
portentous. But a moment only intervened, 
whereupon Herbert Severance, with his usual legal 
directness, began — 

“Dick, just after graduating from Harvard, my 
father sent me on a holiday trip round the world 
before I should settle down to my profession. His 
parting injunctions to me were, ‘ Herbert, don’t 
make a fool of yourself by falling in love with the 
first attractive girl you chance to be thrown with. 
See plenty of the fair sex, my boy, and you will 
find that the adorable one is a very rara avis, 
whom you must seek for persistently before you 
find, and, when once found, must be vigilantly 
treasured to keep. And, above all, never make 
an alliance that may entangle you as helplessly 
as the Lady of Shalot, — not, at least, until you 
are absolutely sure that you are not deluded — that 
you are not falsely allured. In fact, Herbert, 
guard against a faux pas that may blight your 
whole life, and teach you the bitterness of repining. 
See the world, my boy. Draw on me for any 
reasonable amount over your own income (which I 
inherited from my mother) ; return a full-fledged, 
manly man, above the meanness of having wronged 
man or woman, with a clear conscience, and receive 
your father’s blessing.’ 

“ In true American fashion, I took the quickest 
steamship sailing for Queenstown, en route for 
Paris via London ; of course only tarrying in 
London long enough to hustle through and about 


44 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


the places of historical and local interest, getting a 
general idea of land-points, obtaining a smattering 
of this, that, and the other before I bolted off to 
Paris. 

“Once in Paris, I Frenchified my stilted over- 
grammatical French, so that I could be understood 
and understand. I soon plunged into an unceasing 
round of sight-seeing and dissipation without a 
care or responsibility to curb my foolish career. 

“ My object was, as I excused myself to myself, 
to become familiar with Parisian life ; — life on the 
Boulevards ; life in le quartier Latin ; Bourgeois 
life — life — life — every sort, and every phase was 
my quest, as a student, as a man. I proposed to 
know the whole gamut. My companions, both 
masculine and feminine, were Bohemians ; hence 
I was untrammelled by the Procrustean strictures 
of over-scrupulous propriety, or of a binding code 
of social ethics. Perfect freedom Avas mine, indis- 
putably mine. 

“ Soon I found myself so sated, that I frequently 
was in a serious quandary to divine Avhat novelty 
to seek for my delectation. Everything was growing 
stale and vapid. The companions who had once 
been a source of, Avhat I thought, genuine pleasure 
to me, were gradually becoming insufferable. The 
sparkle of their wit, or what went for such, which 
so recently had provoked my risibility, was irksome, 
ribald, venal. I marvelled how I ever had de- 
generated so low as to permit any intimacy to grow 
up betAveen myself and such commonplace folk. 


The uncle’s story. 


45 


“Even tbe little grisettes who were the com- 
panions of the majority of the young fellows, 
in my present mood had lost all their chic, all 
their attractiveness. Their piquant coquetries, for- 
merly so much admired by me, were now actually 
repulsive. 

“ Were they passe, or was I hlase ? I queried, 
with something akin to a real desire for information. 
AVhether the newly discovered deficiencies, the flaws, 
the lack-lustre, were theirs, 'or mine? Whether I 
was not wanting in taste and appreciation ? Never 
arriving at a satisfactory solution, and as the cloy- 
ing grew more disgusting, I firmly resolved to kick 
the Parisian dust from off my heels, and visit the 
Orient, for this had been an objective point in my 
planned peregrinations. 

“ There, to make serious studies of the topo- 
graphy, history, condition of those countries, and 
learn something of the incentives and lives of the 
poetic people, who, although wrapt in and per- 
meated by dreamy sensuousness, never become the 
gross, brutal voluptuaries of Paris, or of other climes 
I had known. 

Imbued with a strong tendency for all things 
appertaining to Orientalism, and, as an amateur, 
having already gleaned, from books, professors, and 
travellers, a not mean or totally insignificant know- 
ledge of the Orient, I naturally bent my steps in 
that direction. 

“One evening while sitting in a cafe-chantant, 
I invited all my convives to make merry, eat and 


46 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


driak at my expense, according to their various 
tastes. Then I announced my intention to depart 
in the morning for an extended tour. It fell like 
a bomb in the little circle. Consternation and 
protestations tinged the ensuing conversation. My 
true-heartedness, my fidelity were sorely charged as 
being traitorous, by one and all. Yet, for all, I was 
unshaken in my plans, and after a boisterous 
night, steeped in reckless eating, drinking, and 
jollity, the rosy morn saw me ready to launch forth 
upon my well-considered project. 

“ I left Paris and its mocking whited sepulchres ; 
the city in which I had for the first time pressed 
to my lips the' dead-sea fruit of immanliness ; the 
city where I learned to trip the name of woman 
lightly, as though her spotlessness was of no more 
consequence than the beauty of the houtonniere 
that chanced to grace my lapel, but for a single 
evening. 

“ En route for Milan," where I directed my 
journey with despatch in the hope to join a college 
chum, it fell into my path to do a trifling, gallant 
service for a young girl, whom at the time I thought 
French. She was travelling, chaperoned by a hired 
Cerebus, but still chaperoned. They had booked 
places in the same railway carriage in which I was 
already comfortably esconced, booked through for 
Milan. They attempted to enter over-burdened 
with a countless array of hand-baggage, which I 
civilly aided them to adjust, and surrendered my 
corner to the young girl, as it was on the shady 


THE uncle’s story. 47 

side of the carriage, and the sun was glaring and 
hot. 

“ Now, to my memory, as then to my vision, she 
was a marvellous beauty. Not as to strict regularity 
of features or typical style, but her face, her figure, 
in truth her tout ensemble, possessed a fascination 
for me that was increased tenfold by the dulcet, 
limpid accents of her clear sweet voice. I resorted 
to every subterfuge short of actual rudeness to pro- 
voke her to speak. There was a naivete in what 
she said, and in her manner of speaking, unsullied 
by affectation, which pub my heart in pawn at 
once. 

Soon I detected, from certain allusions made to 
her chaperone, that she was an American by 
parentage, if not by birth, but expatriated by her 
foreign education, and that she was alone in the 
world. I concluded that she was a student bent on 
some career, for she constantly alluded to 'my 
work* 

" In a moment of absent-mindedness, gazing at 
the flying landscape as the train steamed along, she 
hummed in an almost indistinguishable voice the 
dashing air of a charming chansonette, which was at 
that moment en vogue with all the houlevardiers at 
Paris. Like a flash, methought could she be pro- 
fessional ? And then, I know not why, it occurred 
to me, might it not be possible that this personage 
was the promising Clarisse Arditti ?” — at this name 
Dick shuddered, but did not break the thread of his 
uncle’s narrative — “ for whom the leading critics 


48 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


predicted such an enviable future ? I was burning 
with curiosity. 

“ Emboldened by the freedom of an acquaintance- 
ship that gradually grows when the first barrier is 
cleared by trifling civilities as a journey proceeds, I 
ventured to speak to her. 

“ ‘ Mademoiselle, are you going to Milan ? ’ ” 

“‘Yes, monsieur, I hope to,’ was her simple 
response.” 

Herbert Severance felt that time was fiying, 
and checked himself a moment. 

“ Let me summarise all details, Dick. She was 
the young y/rwna donna, en route to Milan to fulfil 
an engagement at La Scala — a first season. 

“ She was a grand success. Acclamation poured 
upon her from the most conservative and punctilious 
critics. She was forthwith accounted a phenomenon, 
a star of the first magnitude. 

“ In the progress of time our acquaintance 
ripened into an intimate friendship. This lovely 
girl, without guile or other motive than to sing as 
the birds, because she could not help it, and because 
it was her destined vocation, held me vassal to her 
slightest caprice. Night after night, I was in the 
orchestra stalls, showering flowers upon her, and in 
a state of ecstatic rapture, revelling in the mystical 
charm of the peculiar timbre of her voice, all the 
while secretly indulging in a wild burning dream 
that some day I might capture this queen of song. 

“ Fool ! fool ! that I was, in my blind enthral- 
ment, I did not see that this lovely lily could not 


THE uncle’s story. 


49 


stand the blasting hot-breath of such success — 
could not remain uncontaniinated by the infectious 
atmosphere of the promiscuous adulation of syco- 
phants. Nor, could I perceive that her coyness 
was becoming tinctured with and coloured by a 
growing necessity for admiration, nor, that her 
artistic soul was becoming so wedded to her art, 
that she yearned to live the intensely passionate 
stories she was constantly acting and phrasing. 

“ Her genius, spurred by her attainments, was 
mounting at a breathless pace to such lofty heights 
that the girl’s pure, immaculate heart was being pulsed 
to, subjugated by the demands of fealty — unquali- 
fied fealty — to her vocation, to her art, to her second 
nature. There were times when she was so carried 
out of herself by her role, it was almost a nightly 
event for the audience to rise en masse, incited by 
a furor of excitement like a surging sea billowed 
in a tempest, and fairly howl, ’mid deafening 
applause, before she had more than sung the last 
note of certain passages — ‘ hravo ! hravissimo ! 
his ! his ! bis ! ! ’ Encore after encore, compelled 
this darling of the public to repeat again, and 
again, favourite arias in which she had brilliantly 
excelled. 

“ The irresistible magnetism she exercised over 
her audience owed its sovereignty to the complete 
abandon and elan with which she threw herself 
into the part. 

“ Her true identity was coalescing in an invidious 
way with her artistic presentations. 

D 


50 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


In La Traviata she was the embodiment of 
Violetta. The curse of her pseudo-frivolity, her 
enacted prodigality and unchastity, racked her with 
pitiable poignancy, and reaction always followed at 
the expense of her nervous organisation, 

“ Verily, the retribution of her artistic sinning 
was the origin of many of her apparently normal 
eccentricities. The constant change of operas, the 
limitless versatility of her repertoire, Avere warping 
the singleness of her character. . . . To-night 
Elvira, to-morrow Leonora, then Gilda, anon 
Marguerite and Violetta, each equally perfect in 
its rendition. 

“ The subtle process was actually subsidizing 
her unformed, pliant nature to art. She was 
merging into an inconsequent, artistic renegade. . . 
Yet, I dreamed of nought but her. 

“ My fortune was ample, my position well 
assured, therefore, I could place this pampered 
idol of a too fickle public upon a lofty pedestal, 
where no new favourites could supplant her. I 
urged my suit, and won. 

“ It was the termination of the season, but she 
had already signed iron-bound contracts for the 
ensuing Paris and London seasons, inviolable except 
by the payment of ruinous forfeitures. Moreover, 
their non-fulfilment must blight her untarnished 
popularity. And if she was so soon to surrender 
the eclat of her dear public for one loving, devoted 
heart, it was ungenerous to thus rob her lyric and 
histrionic fame of a single laurel. I agreed that she 


THE uncle’s story. 


51 


might fulfil these engagements, stipulating that we 
should be married and seek for her a respite during 
the interim of her seasons in the Alps. 

At this her impresario was furious, avowing 
half her lustre as a Star would be lost if she 
married. This objection was surmounted, and the 
t3Tannical impresario propitiated by a stratagem. 
We resolved between ourselves, after due delibera- 
tion, to marry clandestinely. And we did. 

“ This left the diva free to receive the court of 
her train of worshippers. There was a spice of 
romance and adventure in the incumbent secrecy 
enjoined upon us. The permissible and carefully 
arranged rendezvous at stated times, possessed a 
charm that in no way detracted from our heyday 
of joyance. 

The mischievous coquetry she subjected me 
to in the presence of others added a piquancy to 
her many fascinations. We were enacting an 
idyllic drama of the romanesque school. So we 
thought in those whilom days, before we were 
touched by sorrow. 

One afternoon we sauntered into the studio of 
a celebrated French painter whom we knew slightly. 
We found him in a perfect frenzy of discouragement, 
because he could not procure a suitable model for 
a picture he had composed and hoped to finish for a 
rapidly approaching exhibition — an exhibition of 
historical romantic pictures of the Louis Seize 
period, by French painters hors du concours. 

It was to be given under the patronage of the 




Herbert severance. 


Kmpi'ess Eugenie, and the competition was for 
nothing less than a title. It was verily to be an 
Atalanta race of the nineteenth century to win the 
Empress’s favour. 

“ The painter had made an ehauch, and in fact 
had painted the figures in on his canvas, but the 
faces remained blanks. Seeing his despair, in a 
spirit of sheer merriment and banter, Clarisse ” — 
again this name seemed to pierce Dick — said, " I 
can make up a lovely semblance for a grande dame 
of the Louis Seize period, and as romance is said 
to have no day, or people, or history, that does not 
repeat itself. I’ll pose for the lady. And with 
great artifice, perhaps, we could manage to make up 
Monsieur Severance to masquerade with humility 
at my feet as yon antique Monsieur le courtier. 
It will be such rare sport, for as yet I have no 
souvenirs ; my life, my pleasures, my joys are all 
of to-day.” Thereafter, followed some scintillating 
repartee, in which we all participated. 

“ De La Rue, the painter, eagerly seized the 
offer, and then and there arranged a first sitting. 
He was not slow to see his way more than out of 
his dilemma ; for in this purely inadvertent chance, 
he sagaciously perceived the grand good fortune which 
allowed him to present the hona fide portraiture 
of the renowned diva, who was now in the very 
zenith of her conquests, and a destined favourite at 
the French Court. Hereby, he could add a crown- 
ing eclat to his own glory. Presto ! his dejected 
mood was transformed to one of transport. Less 


THE uncle’s story. 


63 


opportunity, far less, had more than once made the 
fame of an unknown painter, whereas, he merely 
strove ambitiously to reach a higher pinnacle, having 
already an enviable and established celebrity. 

“ Soon he felt sure the loud-mouthed harbingers of 
news, who cluster about the studios and green-rooms, 
would herald the name of his illustrious model. 

Fate seemed beneficent to the painter. Yes, 
to the painter beneficent, but alas, to me and mine, 
she was busy with her shuttle weaving a snare — an 
accursed snare — iovut le monde est sage apres covpj* 

And Herbert Severance with a deep sigh settled 
back in his chair, appearing like a man who was 
losing himself in a dream. 

Dick urged impatiently. 

“ Well, uncle, what follows ? ” 

This effectually roused him. 

Dick, that picture hurled a lovely innocent 
woman to perdition ! That picture robbed me of 
the wife I idolized ! ” 

Another pause, broken only by smothered sobs. 
Herbert Severance had buried his face in his folded 
arms, as he bowed over his desk. His frame shook 
like a sturdy oak in a tempest. 

Dick contemplated his uncle in wonderment, 
stunned by the confession. He felt uncertain 
whether to speak or go to him, and by a pressure 
of the hand, or by some affectionate word, evince 
sympathy. Whilst Dick yet groped in his own 
mind as to his best course, Herbert Severance 
looked up. 


54 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


Dick, I cannot continue to-night.” 

Dick stepped spontaneously to his uncle’s side, 
leant over his chair, placing one arm about his 
uncle’s shoulders, and grasped the opposite hand in 
his own to emphasise by its hearty clasp his meaning. 

“ Uncle, do not grieve this way,” he said, in one of 
those heart-sent minor tones that make some men’s 
voices, when touched through emotion, thrill with 
compassion. “ Perhaps it may condone for the pain 
caused by the recital of your bereavement, to know 
that it shall not he lost upon me.” 

These words illuminated Herbert Severance’s 
countenance with satisfaction. 

“ I thank God for that, Dick ! ” 


CHAPTER IV. 


REFLECTIONS. 


“ How rare are acts of will ! We are all living according to 
custom : we do as other people do, and shrink from an act of our 
own.” 



NCE ensconced in his room, Richard Drysdale 


plunged deep in meditation. He suffered 
as though on an invisible rack, which shook per- 
ceptibly his entire being. In no sense was he one 
of the gregarious throng of a clique, or a truckler 
to society, hedged in by dwarfish limitations ; he 
was, on the contra:ry, a man forever railing against 
the vicarious methods of obtaining wisdom through 
the experience of others, and yet an out-and-out 
heretic to the reactionary malice of the cross- 
grained doctrine, that the crimes of the parents 
were virtually visited upon the children of the 
third and fourth generation.’’ 

Individual res;ponsihility was the keynote to all 
his judgments of human nature, to all his claims 
for consideration of others for his personal deeds 
and shortcomings. 

He meant to call no man prince, because his sire 
had been king ; no man dastard, or thief, because 
his parents had rifled the treasure of another, ox 


56 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


bad been a miscreant ; be recognised no patents, no 
trade-marks, no monopolies in families for virtues, 
or crimes, or mediocrities. 

To bim, the theory of hereditary traits required 
something akin to supernatural astuteness to de- 
ferentiate, in consequence of the blending of the 
maternal and paternal individualisms, antagonisms, 
harmonies, and temperaments. Who dare say with 
any degree of certainty, what mysterious forces with 
irresistible gravity had been at work to evolve a 
new species in the lineal descendants of the most 
exalted, or the most ignoble progenitors ? Nature’s 
crafty alcheni}^, according to bis reasoning, was 
far too subtle to formulate by set rules, far too 
recondite, obscure, and indivisible to probe by cold 
methodical science. 

Education, surroundings, conditions, anomalous 
accidents, or even the sneaking malice of disease, 
were far more puissant in the development of char- 
acter than the blue blood of a dynasty of nobility, 
— than the damning wickedness vitiating and cor- 
roding the blood of an outcast or down-trodden 
class. 

Then, again, he could but consider that the 
most beautiful flowers, their calyxes charged with 
entrancing perfume, or the stinking phallus, the 
most luscious fruits, or the upas tree, owe their per- 
fection or noisomeness, edibility or poison to what ? 
Loath as he was to admit it, the fact obstinately 
existed, that they were indebted to the same soil, 
the same fertilisation, the same sun, the same 


REFLECTIONS. 


57 


climate, but above all to heredity. The acorn 
always produces an oak, the grain of mustard the 
mustard plant, and so on ; and yet, after all, the 
infallibility of any doctrine was preposterous in his 
conclusions, because repellant to his sentiment. 

If like mother, like daughter, his hopes would be 
dashed. 

But why disturb himself with abstruse philo- 
sophy ? Why cast about in deep water impossible 
to fathom ? The subject which concerned him 
now so intimately, and so perturbed him, was one 
far afield. 

Discretion, judgment, decision, and a cool head 
were all he required. He had nothing fiercer, nor 
more occult than doubt to contend against, but 
that doubt was armoured in suspicion, and that 
suspicion had been linked, link by link, out of 
circumstantial evidences, and he had failed to tear 
it to pieces in order to know the truth. It 
gripped him on all sides; he could not discard it 
despite his will ! 

How his uncle’s story tormented him. He 
yearned to know the end. 

After some time of scrutinizing consideration, 
when his thoughts turned inward upon themselves, 
he resolved to boldfy and frankly seek the whole 
ungarnished truth, at the earliest moment possible, 
and act for himself, free and unprejudiced. His 
distraught brain seemed to find a needed panacea 
in this resolve. He yielded to the fatigue which 
had gained upon him. He slept, a restless troubled 


58 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


sleep, filled with dire visions, moans, and starts. 
Now and again his heavy eyelids quiveringly half 
opened, only to droop and close instantly. He was 
not resting but unconsciously conscious, in a state 
which produced a mental fata morgana that 
vivified his tribulations, and threw an infinite 
glamour over past joys, inspiring his heart with 
rapturous hope. 


CHAPTER V. 


PLEASANT INTERLUDES. 

“ Black spirits and white, 
Red spirits and grey ; 
Mingle, mingle, mingle. 
You that mingle maj'.” 



S the ringleader of a party of four, Richard 


Drysdale the previous year had made an 
extensive pleasure trip in Europe. His companions 
— Edward Kingston, Henry Bacon, and Jasper 
Rodgers — were all painters who aimed to utilise 
the sights and scenes of their trip, as well as excuse 
themselves from the appellation of dawdlers. Hence 
they industriously made scores of sketches and 
studies, gleaning, as it were, materials to be worked 
up at leisure in their studios upon their return 


home. 


Whereas, Dick was merely seeking recreation 
from overwork, his chief amusement, pursued by 
him with native intensity, was to discover new 
picturesque spots and characteristic models to lend 
genre, force and local colour for his friends’ pictures. 
His zest and talent in this direction ever resulted 
in profitable success to them. 

\Wien they fain carped at him good humouredly 


60 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


about his being an idler, he always retaliated in 
kind. 

“ Hoity-toity ! fine pictures you muddlers would 
paint, with your crazy harum-scarum imaginations, 
if I didn’t pay attention to the mise en seine for 
3^011 one and all ! Besides, I’m not so sure but in 
the cells of my brain there may not be a stupendous 
work crystallizing. Was it not Emerson w^ho 
wrote, ‘ We do not know to-day whether we are 
busy or idle. In times when we have thought our- 
selves indolent, we have afterwards discovered that 
much was begun in us.’ ? ” 

Bacon interrupted him. 

“ Don’t philosophise, Dick. We’re taking a holi- 
day, you mustn’t forget.” 

‘‘ Rather dose us with ruhrieal eccentricities, 
then wee’ll paint the town red according to a canon,” 
added the metaphoric Kingston. 

During their tarriance in Normand}^ he had 
arranged such charming seances for them, with such 
duckish models, that jovial Jasper Rodgers was 
provoked into twitting Dick to his comrades. 

Egad ! I think Dick has a match-making con- 
tract on with the peasantry ! ’’ 

However, no sooner did Dick perceive that his 
chums were becoming too deeply engrossed in their 
models, than he always interposed a fresh plan, 
based on a plausible array of reasons — often in- 
vented to suit the exigencies of the occasion — for 
moving on to view new fields. He would turn the 
tables, and then chaif them in a merciless way. 


PLEASANT INTERLUDES. 


61 


Good gi'acious ! fellows, why are you not con- 
sistent, and hold to your holiday compacts ? One 
might naturally infer from observation that you 
were all arduous students of anthropology. For 
a fact, you waste most of your time bringing local 
colour to the cheeks of these bonny models, with 
your empty compliments and preposterous avowals, 
making their foolish, credulous hearts leap with 
impossible joy ! Come, now, we want no new 
versions of Guenn. It’s a downright shame. 
Let’s pull out, and ho, for England, Ireland, or 
Scotland, for a variety ! ” 

They were ever ready to chime in with his well- 
ordered plans, especially if — as was too often the 
case — with silly inconsequence, in a spirit of “ it 
makes them happy, and don’t hurt us,” they 
had committed themselves awkwardly by their 
nonsense. Poor little serio-comic models naturally 
were they elated, by dazzling false hopes, out of their 
normal station. A few hasty sittings w^ere usually 
required at such climaxes, affected in a matter-of- 
fact way, giving strict attention to getting their 
sketches in form before their kits were in readi- 
ness. The lachrymose models, each one protesting 
to her particular artist, to her beau ideal, who had 
indued the evanescent days with such inexpressible 
rapture, that he was leaving her avec un clou 
dans mon cosurJ' All the same, they w'ere duly 
abandoned by their holiday traducers, left with- 
out material consolation except the generous silver 
wage, a few trinkets, and the vague promise, “ some- 
time we may return,” which they never did. 


62 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


In the course of their peregrinations they found 
themselves back in London. It was during the 
gruesome period of spring fogs. They were on the 
eve of fixing upon an itinerary for an excursion to 
the Isle of Wight, to get, as suggested by Dick, 
“ the loveliest sea- coast views of rock-bound 
Albion,” when an untoward event upset their 
immature plan. 

Dick was summoned by cable to sail within a 
fortnight for America on important business. 

However, as they were most hospitably enter- 
tained by new and old friends at the various 
clubs, often feted beyond their deserts, they 
counted it no great sacrifice to have the residue 
of time in town. 

One day a friend of Dick’s — a business friend — a 
distinguished banker, a financial potentate of poten- 
tates — suggestively remarked to the quartette : 

It is so atrociously dull during this nasty 
weather in London, I fancy that you gentlemen 
find it decidedly slow and tiresome. As Ameri- 
cans, you are keen after novelties, I presume ? ” 

They each spoke up with native gusto, while 
the more lymphatic Semitic Englishman smiled 
quizzically. 

'"That depends largely on the novelty,” said 
Jasper Eodgers. 

"‘The man with the Ute de veau is abominable,” 
offered Kingston. 

Then again, sir, sometimes le jeu ne vaut pas 
la chandelle/* added Bacon. 


PLEASANT INTERLUDES. 


63 


A lion's company is agreeable if he is a biped,” 
said Dick as a capper-off. 

“ Ah 1 gentlemen, the novelty I have in mind is 
unique. Our bank, mark you, our hank as a financial 
institution has a ward ! The mother superior 
of a certain convent in France but recently turned 
this ward over to our bank. She — the ward — 
has just finished her education. She is a beautiful, 
accomplished, winsome girl, with a most romantic 
history, inheriting at her birth a regal fortune, 
which was trusteed to our bank until she came of 
age. Having just attained her majority, her for- 
tune has come into her possession.” 

There was a general burst of exclamations, such 
as ‘' A full flush,” “ Double six,” “Takes the cake.” 

“Now, young gentlemen, allow me to tell you 
that she is my guest, and only tarries in England until 
I find a suitable escort with whom I am willing to 
entrust her to voyage to America to her sole rela- 
tive and guardian. As dame de compagnie she 
fortunately has attached to her Miss Edith Long- 
streth, a lady aquarellist, who has painted some 
remarkable Normandy genre. The ward, herself, is 
wonderfully gifted. She sings like a nightingale. 
By-the-by, Miss Longstreth is well known in art 
and literary circles in Europe, and, if I mistake not, 
also in America.” 

“ Oh, certainly, Edith Longstreth,” said Bacon ; 
“ iVe seen her clever pictures more than once.’' 

“ Well, as you are all Americans, and, am I 
correct, Mr Drysdale, three artists ? ” — Dick nodded 


64 


feERBERf SEVERANCE. 


— “ and one gentleman at large, perhaps you might 
experience some delectation in each other’s society. 
Will you dine with us en famille , — fortunately my 
wife ai]d two daughters are in town for a few "weeks, 
ecpiipping themselves for the sea-shore, — and have 
•iome music, or join a theatre party, say for next 
Wednesday ? ” 

Accept ! They were not dolts. Just fancy de- 
clining — four young ladies, music, theatre-party, 
the baron, the baroness ! 

Yes, with exceeding pleasure,” was the answer 
to a man. 

“Baron de Sillvermann,” Bichard Drysdale said 
discreetly, “ I hope you will pardon the avidity 
with which we accept. The pleasure of meeting 
ladies of refinement at home is such a treat, after 
knocking about on the Continent, we forget to dis- 
guise, by some reluctance or conventional hesitancy, 
our true feelings of delight.” 

This outspoken ingenuousness had a telling effect 
upon the genial-hearted baron-banker, who liked 
the true ring of the unalloyed gold as much in men 
as in sovereigns. 

It "was settled. The engagement was forthwith 
calendared in red. 

After leaving the club the four companions in- 
dulged in a general colloquy. The fact that the 
baron had not mentioned the name of the bank’s 
ward was a topic of comment. 

Bacon, who was accounted by one and all to be a 
great lady’s man, and a decided favourite wherever 


f»LEASANT INTERLUDES. 


65 


he went, made bold to venture that he intended to 
carry off the prize, if she proved “ worth the candle.” 

Rodgers protested that he then should enter the 
arena as Bacon’s adversary ; and if the heiress was 
fond of flowers, his vantage-ground was secured 
in advance, for he was sound on botany. 

Kingston vowed he didn’t care a button for all 
the callow pinafore darlings in Christendom. They 
all remonstrated, “ Why should he ? He was be- 
trothed.” For his part he intended to pay his 
devoirs to the baroness, or, in a pinch, to Miss 
Longstretb. 

To all this Drysdale laughingly decreed it the 
better part of wisdom to wait and see which way 
the wind blew before setting sail on any such 
piratical expedition as the capture of an heiress 
nolens volens. As for himself, he was too well 
pleased with his bachelor estate to allow a vagrant 
Cupid to put shackles upon him, especially in such 
an unlikely game of chance. Besides, he did not 
believe in any American setting his cap for a 
French woman. At this point cVappui, his friends 
were thrown into a state of wildness, and prodded 
him ruthlessly with their provoked nonsense. 

“ She’s an American, Dick ! you’re hedging ! ” 
Well, well, Dick, plus on est de fou, plus on 

ritr 

Richard — lion-hearted — don’t, pray don’t show 
your claws so soon in defence of your quavering 
heart.” 

“ Take courage, you’ve an even chance, aye, and 
E 


66 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


the odds in your favour. You’re a deuced sight 
better looking than anyone in our crowd.” 

• Laugh away, my merries, you know the adage?” 
retorted Dick, “ I’m no tyro ! ” 

“ But, Dick,” jibed in Jasper Rodgers, you 
know it’s proverbial that the ladies like a mauvais 
sujet, so we shadow your chance, and as for me, I 
haven’t a rival on that score.” 

Go on, go on, put your precious necks in a 
noose. I shall be glad to be 'shet’ of you all. 
You’re a bad lot,” interpolated Dick, whilst their 
raillery rattled about his ears like bird-shot galore. 

Dick, you’re a tremendous swell, and a capitalist 
into the bargain ; pray do have compassion on us 
poor beggars of painters. Let us try our luck with 
the heiress. V\^e’ll do you a favour if fortune’s 
wdieels are ever cogged against 3^11,” said Kingston, 
who ever sought an opportunity to air his word 
tricks. And as his companions laughed heartily, 
he could not resist the sport — hit or miss — of scatter- 
ing more of the diminutive sugar-coated pillules. 
“ Then, Master Richard, brave and fair, 3^11 
know it would be just your glorious mission to 
inaugurate a picture gallery, a sort of Anglo- 
American Grosvenor, to display in line all Edith 
Longstreth’s ' doves' and give our poor insignificant 
daubs sky-room.” 

Good-naturedly Dick took their pleasantries, once 
in a way putting in a rebutting quip, keeping their 
jollity in full swing till they reached their hotel. 

During the intervening days their nonsense was 


PLEASANT INTERLUDES. 


67 


unabated. When Vv^ednesday came, they frankly 
avowed it would be difficult to deport themselves 
becomingly, or free from embarrassment. However, 
in the face of their inbred aptness and savoiv faire, 
this assumption was merely a parting sally, before 
properly falling into line of march, like well-drilled 
Love’s Crusaders. 

In all London, perhaps there may not be found 
a more palatial residence than the noble mansion 
of Baron de Sillvermann. The velvety lawn, with 
its ever green, deep, springy nap, spread out softly, 
as a lovely tapestry, over the triangular space before 
its superb facade; the mammoth vases, overflow- 
ing with brilliant flowers and interlacing festooned 
vines and ferns, were in strict keeping with the air 
of largesse that spread over the whole estate. A 
full view of Green Park on one side, with a glimpse 
atween the foliage of Buckingham Palace, filled 
the plebeian minds of all fl^unkies with the reveren- 
tial feeling that, if this was not the domain of 
royalty, it was verging close to it. There was over 
all a suitable yet unostentatious pomp en regie, and 
nothing offended by. a flaunting, vulgar flourish of 
over-muchness. 

As the young fellows drove between the colossal 
pylon es, and bowled around the carriage road 
circling the lawn, Jasper was much struck by the 
magnificence. 

“By Jove !” exclaimed he indiscreetly, “this is a 
gala night for maulsticks and palettes ! I wish I’d 
brought my sketch-book. Ned, I’ll pull out of the 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


es 

arena, resign totally my chance, if you will pose at 
the shrine of the heiress, while I memorise her in 
an auriferous atmosphere ! ” 

“ S-h-h-h ! ” whispered Dick, fearful lest this 
bantering might be overheard. 

He had barely silenced the flow of nonsense in 
time for them to be assisted to alight from the 
halted carriage. 

They were ushered into the baronial hall by four 
periwigged flunkies, liveried in white brocaded 
satin coats and knee breeches, wearing pink stock- 
ings gartered with rosettes below the knee, shod in 
enamelled pumps with silver buckles studded with 
brilliants, and gloved in spotless white kid. 

The ceremonious and gracious deference with 
which these attendants received the guests con- 
spired to put them at their ease, free from 
astonishment or embarrassment, for — they were not 
Philistines nor Anglomaniacs — it was the right 
ceremony in the right place, which they accepted 
in good form. 

A tesselated pavement flooring the vestibule was 
a veritable Roman mosaic, the ceiling a fresco by 
Durant. The ponderous rosewood doors were 
carved in bold arabesques, radiating in graceful 
sweeps from the centre-pieces, consisting of the 
coat-of-arms of Baron do Sillvermann. Watteau 
and Gobelin tapestries depended alike from all the 
walls of the halls and rooms, excepting the library 
and smoking-room. The former was adorned 
with unique, magnificent, Cordova-leather hangings, 


PLEASANT INTEPvLUDES. 


69 


representing “ The Triumph of Mordecai,” and 
furnished with embossed and repouss^ leather. 
And the smoking-room had been decorated by 
Eugene Lamy, who had excellei himself in the 
spirited manner with which he here reproduced 
many suggestively lively incidents of the Carnival 
of Venice. 

There were some choice old family portraits 
painted by Flandriii and Ingres, and modern ex- 
amples from the brush of Cabanel and Meissionnier. 
Among the miscellaneous pictures were rare 
canvases by no less celebrities than Rembrandt, 
Velasquez, Rubens, Guido, Van Mol, Bordone, 
Reynolds, and Greuze. 

Corners were occupied by cabinets filled with 
rare bits of diminutive chef W oeuvres from the 
workshops of Della-Robbias in ivory and faiences, 
Petitots enamelled work, velvet-lined cases of 
Blankenberghe’s Saxony porcelain, the veriest china 
gauze, exquisite bottles blown and cut by that 
celebrated artisan, Gontliieres ; and here and there 
interspersed, rare examples of Boules and Rieseners, 
inlaid chiffonieres and chairs, all tending to grace 
this sumptuous interior. Upon the broad hearth- 
stone stood a full complement of Caffiere’s brasses, 
glittering with ruddy reflections from the crackling 
fire, which seemed to temper the damp, chilly 
atmosphere. 

A grand Erard pianoforte, beside which stood 
a large beautiful harp, caught the eye upon enter- 
ing the multiple drawing-room, which evoluted 
spaciously. 


70 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


Everything was luxurious ; but, all in all, every 
appointment seemed in perfect- harmony with every 
other garnishment of this establishment. It was 
all of a piece. Nothing clashed, nothing offended. 
Singularly enough the thing that most impressed 
itself upon the beholder — who possibly held in 
memory, and involuntarily contrasted the spectacle 
of countless other magnificent interiors — was the 
prevailing bright genial tone of the ceilings and 
carpets and hangings, elegant in the extreme, 
thick as a board as to texture, but the colours 
were never heavy or inartistic. All so cheery and 
inviting, without a single tawdi^ article, or aught 
that was incongruous, be it for use or ornament. 
Vases of costliest Sevres, such as are usually pre- 
served in emptiness on show, here on the contrary 
were charged with a profusion of exquisite flowers 
massed in single colours. This arrangement was so 
artistic, that the distinctions of the yellows, reds, 
and whites blended beautifully, 

There was a touch, an air of enjoyment pervading 
the atmosphere, unmistakably imparted by the 
denizens, who thought nothing superior to their 
personal wants, and that taste was the better part 
of a thing of price. 

A book in a rose binding, une edition de luxe, 
was held open by a jewel-hilted .Persian dagger laid 
between the leaves, to mark the recent reader’s 
place. Chairs were drawn in juxtaposition, not 
apparently to break the monotony of arrangement, 
but as if just quitted by the occupants who might 


PLEASANT INTERLUDES. 


71 


have been a moment previous engaged in sociable 
conversation. Thus was softened the rigour that 
might even have consistently matched the majesty 
of these lofty salons in this opulent mansion. And 
so it is these Israelitish magnates revel in luxury, 
when they have the inbred taste and culture, as do 
none of their Gentile rivals. 

Baroness De Sillvermann made an attractive 
picture in silver greys, as she gracefully reposed on 
a fautcuil drawn cross-wise, in a little off-set at one 
end of the salon, - her long sweeping robe of pearl 
grey duchesse satin billowing about her shapely 
figure like a moon-tinged sea, as slie played with a 
couple of frolicsome Yorkshire toy-terriers, at the 
risk of ruin to the lovely Mechlin lace garniture of 
her sleeves. 

The guests were announced. 

Putting the pets aside, she advanced to extend 
hospitable welcome. The spoiled impertinent pets, 
unwilling to be discarded on such short notice, set 
up such an uproar, their shrill barkings utterly 
dominated her voice. Unable to down them, she 
motioned the servant to take the miscreants away, 
and they whimpered dolorously in humiliation, as 
they paid the penalty of their disobedience. 

Smiling at the absurdity of the incident and 
situation, for the callers stood like puppets, their 
bodies bowed very low, hats in hand, awaiting her 
salutation, soon as might be she gave the signal. 

Gentlemen, I apologise heartily for this canine 
tempest in a tea-pot. Allow me to bid you heart- 
some welcome ! ” 


72 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


Scarcely a moment elapsed before the two 
daughters entered, followed by the hank's ward and 
Miss Longstreth. Then came the baron, breezy and 
bustling, as one who was making up lost time. A 
general interchange of a few insignificant cordialities 
had turned the cold edge of formality, when dinner 
was announced. 

The host arose, addressed his guests : Mr 
Drysdale, you will attend Baroness De Sillvermann ; 
Mr Bacon, my daughter Lady Helena ; Mr King- 
ston, my daughter Lady Fanny ; Mr Rodgers, Miss 
Longstreth. Miss Corneille,” — the young fellows 
pricked up their ears, — “ we will proceed ; ” and 
taking the bank’s ward on his arm, led the way to 
the dinner-room. 

Dinner consisted of a perfect menu, served to 
perfection. As the baron detested wearisome 
spreads, it was not too long nor too elaborate. 
After dessert, the customary retirement of the ladies 
permitted the usual half-hour of selfish mannish 
freedom. They smoked, sipped a glass of fin 
champagne, conversed upon divers topics of the day, 
each cautiously, if at all, descanting upon the 
political crisis ; told a story or two, which hurt no 
one, but amused all. 

Soon the host led the way back to the drawing 
room. The ladies were vivaciously chatting full of 
animation, and, if not actually engrossed in each 
other’s society — dear humbugs — their dissimulation 
was perfect. 

Clarisse Corneille, “ the bank’s ivard," as Baron 


PLEASANT INTERLUDES. 


73 


de Sillvermann persisted for the quaint nuance in 
denominating her, possessed a charming personality. 
She was of medium height, well-developed figure, 
graceful and lithe as a sprite, an ideal type of 
golden hair, lily and peachy blonde ; noticeably 
large hazel eyes, dark abundant lashes, and delicately 
pencilled eyebrows ; a small mouth, full vermilion 
lips, which offset her brilliant fine teeth. Although 
she spoke English with fluency, it was not entirely 
free from an accent, or, strictly speaking, an in- 
flection that made the timbre more than otherwise 
attractive. She was endowed with a certain spirit 
of vivacit}^, a freshness and joyfulness ever and 
only imparted by exuberant health and a sunny 
temper. 

She exhibited a charming elan and unreserve, 
without pertness. She listened, or talked, or 
laughed with enjoyment, but with utter selfless- 
ness ; original in thought, but not opinionated ; 
an unspoiled child of nature, whose youthful 
simplicity and candour, education or worldliness 
had not yet warped. 

At a moment when enjoyment seemed to lag, the 
baroness requested Miss Corneille to sing. She 
arose with obedient affability. 

“ Madam, the baroness, knows I sing only as an 
amateur, and without professed skill. One is not 
taught to be an artiste in a convent. What shall 
I sing, madam ? Making this half apology she had 
crossed the room to the piano, and now stood with 
all her soft fluffy lace draperies crushed about her, 


74 HERBERT SEVERANCE. 

as she turned on herself to address the baroness, 
and awaited her mandate with bewitching grace. 

“ Miss Corneille, I think your voice is particularly 
adapted to melodramatic or pathetic styles of music. 
I like any selection from your operatic repertoire,” 
— the girl hesitated, — “ or a gipsy song ; there you 
have a wide range from which to choose. But, 
can you play j^our own accompaniment ? ” sug- 
gestively asked the baroness. 

Instantly Dick stepped forward, proffering his 
services as accompanist. 

” If Miss Corndille will first permit me to run 
over the music to get the melody, pitch, and time. 
I’ll do my best.” 

Clarisse selected the lament of a zingara deserted 
by her lover. As she sang she warmed up, giving 
vent to her fervour. She threw herself into action, 
and her gestures gave play to her marvellous con- 
ception of the gipsy’s fierce passion and subsequent 
heart-broken lament. Her eyes flashed, her move- 
ments revealed the contour of her figure in myriad 
poses. The displayed qualities of her florid voice 
proved it to be, as the baroness had opined, a dra- 
matic soprano, of full, rich volume, wierdly pathetic 
in its middle register. She seemed inspired. Her 
listeners were wrapt in admiration. At the finish 
she was praised in an extravagant manner, and 
urged to sing again. 

She consented conditionally that they all emu- 
lated her willingness by joining in some melody 
without solos. 


PLEASANT INTERLUDES. 


15 


They could but consent. After shuffling over a 
huge stack of music, something suitable was 
selected. They derived no end of fun from their 
futile endeavours to sing in tune and keep time 
without rehearsal. 

When this performance was concluded, she turned 
to Jasper naively. 

“ What a delicious quality of tone your tenor 
possesses ! It reminds me of .the voice of another 
painter I am acquainted with, but he is no longer 
young, and his voice has not your clarion ring. He 
taught me how to sing. Probably you know him 
by reputation. Count De La Rue ? He received 
hi^ title from the Empress Eugdnie, as a competi- 
tive prize for a celebrated picture, that I am told 
had a history ; but on dits are not always oracles of 
truth, so I’ve been taught. He never personally 
mentioned either the picture or the story to me, 
but he did train my voice.” 

“A service for which. Miss Corndille, if you will 
permit me to arrogate an opinion, every person who 
ever has the coveted pleasure of listening to your 
voice, will be extremely grateful,” gallantly offered 
Jasper Rodgers, as he kissed her hand with Con- 
tinental mannerism. 

''I thank you.” She inclined her head without 
a touch of coquetry or conceit, then drew nearer 
Dick, who had not left the piano-stool, to compli- 
ment him on his pronounced success as an accom- 
panist. 

‘‘ Mr Drysdale, it must be very difficult to 


76 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


accompany off-sight, voices you are not familiar 
with ? I should make a disgraceful fiasco!’ 

“ Now, Miss Corndille,” spoke up the baroness, 
favour us with the song of songs, in my estima- 
tion — Mia speranza adorata — instead of fatiguing 
your vocal cords, complimenting the gentlemen.” 

Again, as a volunteer in her service, Dick accom- 
panied her with great taste, for he knew the music 
perfectly. She excelled her previous effort. A 
shade flushed by the excessive adulation poured 
upon her, she was not quite at ease. Eager to 
escape further attention, she arose and seated her- 
self beside the eldest daughter. Lady Helene, and 
found relief from conspicuousness in urging her to 
play on the harp. 

The request was politely reiterated by the guests. 
“ It would afford them such extreme pleasure.” 
White lies ! 

Lady Helene digitated a bewildering example of 
pyrotechnical instrumentation on the harp, before 
which she attitudinized in such fashion as to display, 
beneath a sweep of draperies, a decidedly shapely 
foot. She flourished her hands and arms as she 
threw her head back, slightly averted, with face up- 
turned in an imaginary and practised seraphic pose. 
Lady Fanny accompanied her on the piano. 

The marked trip-hammer precision of time, the 
stolid, conscientious, unsympathetic rendering, with- 
out deviation, inflexibly according to the score, 
showed, if not genius, a fine mechanical training that 
transcended personality in matters of interpretation. 


R^IASANT tNTEntUDE^. 


?7 

Every string was pulled, every combination of 
chords tliridded ; crazy arpeggios whisked over 
the surface of the palsied instrument ; piano, raezzo, 
forte, then all simultaneous, or with such precipita- 
tion that it so seemed, making the massive frame 
vibrate in an ague of sound, and the performer’s 
bosom swell with the mighty exertion ! 

The equally belaboured gymnastics of the piano- 
forte obligatoist, truly presented in unison, ham- 
mered out examples of what work and soulless 
perseverance can effect ! 

It was their show-piece. They had toiled at it 
like true Britons for ten years, to play it with 
the precision of clock-work, and as debutants in 
society, had just begun to torment the tympanums 
of helpless listeners. For at least five years would 
this be repeated, and repeated too with unalterable 
fidelity ; when, if not before, matrimony in all 
probability would claim these so-called gifted 
creatures, as good as their weight in sound 
sovereigns. As it is not customary for women to 
play after marriage, peace would possibly reign 
till their own daughters were foisted upon society 
in the same manner. 

The polite humbugs applauded without stint, 
even pronouncing the musical feat most marvellous ; 
but in the minds of the present guests, that music 
settled the young ladies of the house of Sillver- 
mann. Jasper Rodgers some time after summed 
them up with dubious politeness to his companions. 

“ They are deucedly high-bred, very talented ; 


^8 HERBERT SEVERANCE. 

oh, yes, but somewhat constrained, modish, and too 
unimpeachably conventional, like ten thousand of 
their class.” 

On the contrary, taken as an antithesis to these 
formulated young ladies. Miss Longstreth was a 
decided character, sui generis , — a type, physically 
considered, she herself pronounced “ a mongrel, a 
hybrid between a brunette and a blonde.” 

Nationality she seemed to have none that she 
cared to nurture. Born in Louisiana, when a mere 
prattler, because of the little unpleasantness ” 
between the north and south she was brought by 
her parents to Europe, and educated in France and 
Germany. 

She was indulged by this doting father, who 
from the time of her mother’s death had pampered 
her most injudiciously, and at his death left her 
with a fat income. The principal he had wisely 
invested, so that nothing could ever transpire to 
disturb it, unless the bottom dropped out of the 
world. She had, previous to her father’s death, 
traveled with him around the world, and was by 
natural sequence an out and out cosmopolitan. 

He had been proud of what he gloried in term- 
ing “ her manly accomplishments and good, hard- 
headed common sense.” She had been constantly 
surrounded by his men friends, consequently had 
grown up familiar witii their sports and many of 
their customs, and had acquired a broadness of 
thought thoroughly masculine. She was a fine 
horsewoman, an excellent shot, and fenced well, 
could swim, and skate, and manage a boat ; in 


PLEASANT INTERLUDES. 


79 


fact, loved all out-door sports that gave her freedom 
to exercise muscles and limbs, and blow the cobwebs 
out of her brain. 

Through long propinquity to men she had 
imbibed a desire to have some legitimate occupa- 
tion in life, like a man, tliat should have a monetary 
value, and she was as proud of her own suc- 
cessful venture in the arena of art as any man 
could have been in any business enterprise of even 
greater magnitude. The money she earned by her 
brush, she called her “ scriqnilous fund ” — it repre- 
sented her worth. 

This young woman was utterly free from the 
mooted lackadaisical nature of a southerner. She 
possessed very decided ideas and theories of life. In- 
ductive, no doubt, from her varied observation and 
untrammelled association with men, she had not 
passed along through life’s highways and bye-ways, 
cross-cuts and circuitous paths, without experiencing 
some degree of sorrow, and keen acrimonious dis- 
appointment. Work was her solace, and her motto. 
Labor omnia vincit. 

“ What ’ ” she was wont to say, “ sink down 
when struck, with folded arms, and bemoan until 
the tide of utter wretchedness rises high enough 
to swallow me up, or the turbid stagnation 
stifles me, and all trace of returning steps are 
lost in the mire, and no beacon to give hint of an 
advance stronghold ? Oh, no 1 not 1 ! . . . Give 
me time to catch my breath, time to sense the 
situation, despite the hurt, I will try to struggle 


HERBERT SEVERAXCB. 


ao 

up on to my feet, obstinately bent upon over- 
coming my own ’weakness ; strike out, make 
directly through the wrack, cling to and carve 
my way up the craggy cliffs overshadowing my 
‘ sea of troiibleJ And again, if propitiously 
warned by a forecast shadow, if I know the worst, 
then I right about, stand with a bold front to meet 
the coming disaster, armed with determination 
cap-d-pie to conquer or die in the contest. One 
don’t alw^ays succeed, but honest failure is not 
defeat.” 

Evidently she had read her lessons clearly and 
understandingly out of the great book of life — the 
world. 

There was a steely, star-like coldness and bril- 
liancy in her eyes, betokening an ambitious nature, 
capable of great steadfastness, and absolutely one 
that never flinched. She could gaze at the sun, 
or watch the flashing lightnings without blinking. 

Withal she was not mannish, nor did she assume 
a certain horsy dash that some young women, who 
have cleared the first hurdle of small social orbits, 
are apt to adoj)fc ; adopt, too, in the mistaken 
notion that such an assumption adds a certain 
air of independence to their personality, forgetting 
— if they ever knew — that strength of character 
can be as intensely feminine as masculine. No 
true woman seeks to enfranchise herself from 
womanliness. 

Granting that Edith Longstreth courted success, 
it was never at the expense of her womanly dignity. 


PLEASANT INTERLUDES. 


She adhered to good forms with almost religioi ? 
tenacity, being essentially refined. A certain ckic 
and elegance of dress, setting her well-rounded 
figure off to perfection, proved her to be, not indif- 
ferent to womanly vanities. 

Her strong, nervous hands were quite as ex- 
pressive as her face and mien. Edward Kingston, 
who had been a close student of D’Arpentigny, 
could not take his eyes away from them. He 
had a craze for analysing the bands of fresh ac- 
quaintances, to determine in his own mind strains 
of character, as he believed, otherwise obscure 
to him. 

At an opportune moment, when the rest of the 
party were busy conversing, he remarked in an 
undertone to Dick : 

“ Just look, Dick, at the flexibility of her tapering 
fingers, with their blunt tips, they drop in perfect 
curves ; then see the strength in the cushioned 
muscles of the thumbs and underside of the palms ; 
watch the glowing colour of the fine skin, and the 
full throbbing veins; see the Instfe and shapeliness 
of her exquisite nails. Those, Dick, are indices 
enough for me. I read her like an open book. 
Shes a woman worth knowing.” 

She never appeared to lightly touch or carelessly 
finger aught, but rather to grasp firmly everything 
she encountered or took. Her hand-shake — if indeed 
she shook hands, for she was very much averse to 
the custom indulged in promiscuously — was such a 
firm, hearty grip, as might have done creilit to a 
F 


8 ^ 


severance. 


modern Vulcan. But this 3mung woman’s great 
attractiveness to all observers was an easy bearing, 
her equipoise and command of herself, attended by 
a graceful action in all her movements and gestures, 
and an admirable carriage. 

Jasj^er Rodgers said, She’s deucedly well put 
together. She can afford to be unconcerned ; she’s 
too deep for me by a jugful. I feel like a blooming 
idiot when she darts her eagle e3^es full upon me, 
and opens up fire. Her bookishness involves too 
many diverse topics I haven’t two thoughts about, 
when talking to women. I prefer the dolly-fool 
girls, by a long shot to the clever self-assertive breed 
of nondescripts, who are quite as unsatisfactory in 
actual life as would be Hypatia. They’re abnormal. 
... I imbibed the old-fashioned doctrines of St. 
Paul’s teachings in my mother’s milk, and the 
mutability of the so-called progressive age, has not 
caused me to assimilate a new faith. Women 
should be strictly ornamental, and hold their tongues 
on affairs of state or learning in the temple.” 

The 3"oung men had made polite but futile efforts 
at conversation with the young ladies of the house 
of Sillvermann. Probably some friction or national 
prejudices unintentionally cropped out, thereby hold- 
ing Lady Helene and Lady Fanny aloof, by an un- 
accountable yet masterful antagonism. However, 
their conversation was utterly tame. When not 
absolutely in monosyllables, every theme essayed 
dwindled down to the measure of a few sentences, 
lopped off effectually with “Just fancy,” “So tire- 


I^Leasant Interludes. 


§3 


some,” “ The nasty weather,” “ Awfully good in 
you to say so ; ” hence the young men were not 
fierce to prolong the one-sided confabulation, in 
their foiled attempt to draw the aristocratic turtles 
out of their shells. 

On the contrary, Baron and Baroness Sillvermann 
were most charming, versatile, and adaptable. 
Theirs was the very quintessence of cordiality and 
hospitality, without the slightest taint of condescen- 
sion. They both possessed the almost extinct art of 
inspiring in others powers of conversation. They 
led their guests up to fields of thought, and adroitly 
drew each one out of temporary reserve. It im- 
pressed the observer, as an invitation to dance, to 
sing, to play, which could not be refused, even 
though one was ignorant of all three ; and yet, 
under the inspiration of, particularly the baroness’s 
winning, encouraging manner, one might surprise 
one’s self by making a successful attempt, and, 
although a novice, feel unabashed by personal awk- 
wardness or dulness, because her radiant smiles 
beamed upon them. 

Oh, rare and perfect host and hostess, who ever 
took such ceaseless pains to afford to one and all 
the meed of pleasure, that should prove most agree- 
able to each guest’s personal inclining. 

“ To have the honour of bestowing ever so small 
a pleasure or enjoyment upon a guest, is a great 
boon I always covet,” was the baroness’s constant 
rejoinder, when guests in taking their leave 
thanked her. 


84 


fiERBERT SEVER A^sCEl. 


“ If 3'ou have been happier because of this 
evening, I oice you thanks, oiot you me ! ” 

Inadvertently, Edward Kingston said in response 
to a query as to his being in love with his art : 

“ I have always thought I made an irretrievable 
mistake when I turned ni}^ back on literature for art.” 

'J'his was the cue for tlie Baron to take him off. 
to his library. 

Apart from the faultless array of books necessary 
to equip an extensive private library, Baron de 
Sillvermann had scoured all the noted book marts, 
and had retained many celebrated bibliopolists to 
glean for him ceitain folios. However, his par- 
ticular fad turned his attention to the attainment 
of old engravings and prints, whether torn out of 
the volumes they once illustrated, or in the old 
books intact. With pride he displayed several 
enormous tomes, bearing the imprint of a Dutch 
publisher, much over two centuries ago, containing 
illustrations of all sorts of hideous and ponderous 
war-engines, instruments of torture, and arms and 
armoury not only for men but for horses and 
elephants; a rare volume of Diogenes Laertius, 
two of Polybius, and several of Herodotus, all in a 
state of fine preservation. 

He took from one of the shelves a copy of 
Josephus, opened it, to make' some comments on 
certain passages which are eliminated from many 
versions. Every margin was closely written over 
in red ink in Hebrew characters, observing which, 
Kingstoii asked : 


PLEASANT INTERLUDES. 


85 


“ Baron de Sillvermann, have you any idea who 
the commentator was ?” 

This tickled the Baron’s vanity like a fluttering 
feather, and he smiled with the air of a youth 
when praise is brand new, not as a man of the 
world, sated and more or less inured to all life’s 
good things, 

‘^Ah, Mr Kingston, doubtless you will denounce 
me as a vandal for profaning the temple of learn- 
ing ! The marginal notes are mine !” 

Unlike most bibliomaniacs, Baron de Sillvermann 
had the leaves all cut, and took a real pleasure in 
the contents of his literary antiquities and curios. 
He had no sham egotism in the mere possession of 
his literary love, because it provoked the envy of 
some competitor, or was worth so many pounds, 
shillings, and pence. At any moment his familiarity 
with their contents made him equal to a thorough 
dissertation upon their subject matter, and classifi- 
cation. He was quite frank in declaring that he 
scarcely knew in belles lettres the names of a dozen 
modern authors, or the titles of their books. 

He found Edward Kingston not only apprecia- 
tive, but a man with marked similarity of taste 
to his own, in respect to books, and one who had 
made some pretentious finds in original manu- 
scripts, and even was about to publish a monograph 
on his fad in reference to head and tail pieces, as 
the only safe authentic means of establishing the 
identity of certain publishers’ works, or to denote 
the personality of the ownership of special copies. 


86 


HERCEllT SEVERANCE. 


“ Book-plates, Baron de Sillverinann, is my 
craze, whether they be modifications of crests, 
monograms, shields, scrolls, with names or mottoes 
engraved or written within tliem. I spent two 
years rummaging musty, mildewed, worm-eaten 
volumes, in perfect rat-holes, to gratify my humour. 
I found many extremely ornate, even fantastic and 
roccoco, arabesques, cornucopias, gargoyles, cherubs, 
cupids, birds, and animals — sometimes outrageous 
designs. I rejoice to witness tlie initiatory in a 
revival of these old-time devices has been taken by 
some publishers.’’ 

And so to the echo these two men agreed. 
Finally, Baron de Sillvermanu, with deference to 
his other guests, was prompted to considerately end 
their chat. 

“ In conclusion,” he said, as he shoved back upon 
a shelf a mamrhoth tome, Mr Kingston, I pray 
you don’t misapprehend me. Not that the old 
necessarily should be better than the new, but I 
personally like to dwell upon distinctive epochs 
that produced one genius at a time, who became 
the epitome of his age. Into his work he blended 
in one grand totality, as an intellectual microcosm, 
the needs of all classes. Now-a-days, we have too 
many pretenders with a distributed mediocrity.” 

Kingston could not resist the prompting of his 
republicanism. 

“ Ah, Baron de Sillvermanu, that is because you 
old Continent people hug your aristocracy, and seek 
to hold up lineal caste as the un surmountable line 
of demarcation. Is that not so 1 ” 


PLEASANT INTERLUDES. 


87 


“Quite to the contrary, as far as I am concerned. 
Kather a satire on your opinion, stands the fact that 
from Mammon Avas the lineal descent that gave to my 
own family their distinction and titles. Then there 
is your own Henry M. Stanley, a self-made man of 
destiny, whom I personally regard with the greatest 
respect, and bow down to with true admiration. 
His plain ‘ Mister ’ signifies more to me than any 
feudal title of duke, or conferred estate of sovereignty 
or nobility. Fine, noble man that. His ambition 
seems to have been guided by an exalted estimate 
and sense of personal duty, and that duty has been 
quickened by noble humanity, charged with deep 
sympathies and profound knowledge. He truly re- 
presents a genius that must be immortalised for 
heroism as well as historical fame, far above the 
succession of old Continent nobility. But, mark 
you, there is one Stanley, and only one. However, 
let us not enter upon a dissertation which has no 
beginning and certainly no end in its ramifications.” 

They both rejoined the group in the drawing- 
room. 


CHAPTEE VI. 


Edith’s theories. 


“ In all that she said there appear’d 
An amiable irony. Laughingly she rear’d 
The temple of reason, with even a touch 
Of slight scorn at her work, reveal’d only so much 
As there gleams in the thyrsus that Bacchanals rear, 
Through the blooms of a garland the point of a spear. 

S the baron and Kingston returned to the 



vivacious circle, they were the targets of a 
copious volley of mock indignation from the ladies. 
Their hubbub was silenced by the baroness inviting 
her guests to repair to the supper-room, where a 
toothsome collation awaited them. 

I cannot fancy,” she said to the baron and 
Kingston as she led the way, “ that you two gentle- 
men are sesthetical enough to dispense with material 
refreshments for the sake of a Barmecide feast, even 
though served d la Cinque-cento” 

Once comfortably disposed at table, Baron de 
Sillvermann addressed the gentlemen as a party. 

When do you sail for America ? ” 

“ Probably within a fortnight,” Drysdale promptly 
responded. 

“ Then,” resumed the baron, “ }lis3 Corneille 


EDITH’S THEORIES. 


89 


may possibly go at the same time, that is, if I 
can induce Mr and Mrs Bleecker, whom she is to 
accompany, to fix upon a date that will conform to 
yours. It certainly would be less forlorn for her 
to have the congenial society of a party of young 
people, than to be immured with a middle-aged 
couple across sea, albeit they are in this case, most 
delightful persons.” 

Dick sprang precipitously to the fore as spokes- 
man. 

“ Oh, for the matter of that,” he eagerly said, 
we can. I’m sure, waive our date to any time 
during the month to accommodate their plans. We 
are merely on a pleasure trip. Besides, if it were 
otherwise. Miss Corneille as companion voyager, 
would be a guerdon that would more than amply 
compensate for serious detention.” Dick was be- 
coming effusive. 

The young lady was not a mummy, and could 
but be obviously affected and delighted with Dick’s 
emphatic manner. Her pride fiushed by the flattery 
of his out-and-out compliment. 

Henry Bacon, with an assumption of interest, 
turned blandly to MissXongstreth. 

Are you not. Miss Longstreth, going also ? ” 

''That depends, Mr Bacon, upon a variety of 
circumstances not altogether auspicious.” 

" Have you any objection to submit to us,” he 
glanced at his three friends, " what you regard as 
stumbling-blocks, or inauspicious ? For, in our 
piidst I feel confident we might devise expedients 


90 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


potent enough to overcome them.” His tone, his 
manner, his assumption, were unusual for him. 
If he was sincere, he was angling in uncertain 
waters ; at least, so thought his intimates. 

“ Bravo ! ” burst out Baron de Sillvermann. 
“ Chivalry has in you and your compatriots brave 
specimens.” 

The four young men instinctively and simultane- 
ously rose, made a graceful bow : 

“ We hope to merit it,” “ Thank you,’^ 
'' Thanks,” “ Thanks, you flatter us,” and reseated 
themselves, when Bacon again looked towards Miss 
Longstreth. 

You perceive we are in the field at your service.” 

“ That’s a venturesome, blindfold offer, placing 
you at the mercy of a capricious woman, — for to 
men’s minds all women must he capricious, — how- 
ever, you may recant,” replied she. 

“ Steadfast to the offer, I refuse to recant. 
Command me.” 

‘^Well, Mr Bacon, do you think I can have as 
much latitude in America as I do in Europe, where 
everyone who knows me humours my heresies ? 
Strange to confess, notwithstanding I possess a fear- 
less sort of courage, yet I timidly shrink from being 
misjudged.” 

Edward Kingston ventured to suggest before 
Bacon could collect himself sufficiently to answer : 

“Miss Long.streth, you might not find your posi- 
tion as an independent, free-thinking young woman 
quite so conspicuous, or your honours so undivided 


Edith’s theories. 


91 


in America, for in no country are the women so 
thoroughly enfranchised as there. I assure you it 
is nothing remarkable for the cr^me cle la cr4me of 
young American women to seriously embrace a 
profession or launch out as amateurs. There is at 
present a general movement in that direction — a 
species of epidemic. I personally must avow but 
little faith, that the dear sex is, as a rule, 
actuated by any better motive than a desire to be 
the observed of all observers.” 

“ There ! there ! Mr Kingston, treason ! ” in- 
terrupted she. That’s just like a man’s insular 
estimate of women’s motives. I denounce your 
unfairness. It aggravates and stirs my soul's 
spleen to have my sex eternally put upon 
by foregone masculine condemnation ! ” Miss 
Longstreth had warmed up to a state of excitement, 
but checked herself suddenly, adopting with admir- 
able tact an indifferent tone, and she accosted Mr 
Bacon again. Do you agree with your friend ?” 

“ Yes, and no. All my ideas are far too abstract 
for clear delineation. Fashions are ephemeral, and 
women, the world round, are accounted to be 
fashion’s devotees,” so he hedged with levity. 

To this Baroness de Sillvermann spoke up with 
quiet mien. 

‘‘ Will you permit me, Mr Bacon, to say that in 
my observation I have seen more men hoodwinked 
by fashion, and dancing with reckless, dizzy changes 
to her most fickle novelty, than so-called light- 
headed, frivolous girls ! ” 


92 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


The ladies all twittered in exultation, and the 
gentlemen gave vent to sighs and moans to manifest 
their woeful plight, and appeared about ready to 
surrender or retreat. 

Reahy, this is too bad. I did not aim to 
institute myself dictator or umpire, and I must 
insist that the conversation proceed between the 
original participants.” The baroness, all smiles, 
subsided into a muteness not easy to break through, 
and gave her attention to the silent amenities, she, 
like a true English hostess, excelled in dispensing, 
without disturbing one iota the continuity of any 
conversation. 

Miss Longstreth seized the lance first. 

“ Pray, tell me what mainspring actuates you 
lords of creation ? ” 

Mr Kingston, feeling somewhat prodded by her 
query, essayed a quick rejoinder, but she con- 
tinued : 

‘‘Pardon, but let me first announce my opinion, 
lest your honest contrition leads you to admis- 
sions that may divest my penetration of some of its 
wisdom. First, to get a living, if must be. 
Second, because a profession or business is allotted 
and impartially granted to men, whether they 
possess auri sacra fames stronger than aught else, 
or simply ignore idleness. Third, to lose yourselves, 
and pass the time, when yachting, polo, racing, 
hunting, billiards, cards, and all the fooleries 
of a superficial existence cloy upon you, then, as a 
bulwark against the ills of society you seek other 


teDITH^S TflEORtEg. 


^3 


occupation, you * go into business! Fourth, over- 
weening vanity, and unquenchable fondness in 
being a marked man if successful, and, in conse- 
quence, to be looked up to as a superior being, 
regarded by the lesser mites as a min of influence, 
to be cultivated and patronised, because you have 
the power to crush them, or make them, or that 
the jingle of your money bags is as divine music to 
their mercenary senses. Seldom — of a class of the 
sex, not of an individual do I speak — do you 
pursue a career, take up a course of study, or 
indulge in a craze' after the ideal beautiful and 
good, with the sole purpose of enlarging and 
ennobling your manhood, or to disseminate unsel- 
fishly a benefit to your fellow beings. . . . You do 
not live in earnest, although under a high pressure 
you pant in a common race, free to all, I grant — 
dicker and squeeze, worst your competitor to better 
yourselves in a material way. Ah, you cheat your- 
selves with your half-heartedness, and fritter away 
your years, until it is too late to make reparation. 
Then, by one of those singular perversions 'of human 
nature, you fall to denouncing and cursing all the 
rest of creation, because you have made a barren 
waste of your own life, that is bitter and in the end 
detestable to you.” 

She paused to sip her wine, but her intent to 
proceed was felt by her listeners, for the moment- 
ary silence remained unbroken. 

Now, with women, if the bread-and-butter grind 
is out of the question, we often fret over the hum- 


fiERBEUT SEVERAi^CE. 


drum banality of our feminine, of our permissible 
occupations. We may love ourselves just a trifle 
more than one of the suitors who have vowed ardent 
protestations into our ears, or on the other hand, if 
we have no suitors, we cannot or may not with self- 
respect calculate on matrimony with any certainty. 
We have opinions of our own, yet being the 
recipients of our parents’ bounty, if our opinions 
are radically contradistinct to, or clash with their 
views, we feel a humiliating sense of restriction. 

. . . We may refrain from expressing them, 

but these ideas may be dearer to us than the 
immunity from earnest struggle which the home 
sheltpr furnishes, with its measurable amount of 
coercion. How many men strike out for them- 
selves through home differences ? ” 

Precious few, I fear,” answered Bacon. 

“ Personal independence,” she resumed, ''to a 
capable woman is a trait no sacrifice is too severe to 
make to secure. . . . We seek work for another 
reason — we like to create something. A German 
philosopher called this motive the maternal instinct 
latent in every female. Yet for all that, we may 
not possess domesticity. We often like the realisa- 
tion of personal power that the qualification to 
execute work brings. We crave freedom, insuring 
the right to go and come as a man, unquestioned, 
and without feeling compulsory dependence upon 
any one ; or at times we are forced to deception in 
an effort to conceal our distaste, or screen our prefer- 
ences from prying eyes. We have sufficient amour 


Edith’s theories. 


95 


propre to detest a false custom that often is a bore 
to the helpless men who are our relegated escorts. 
Put all this out of the question, every girl becomes 
more of a woman, with the aim of some motive to 
spur her on, and every woman a grander, more 
sympathetic, more sterling woman because of work. 
Aye, she becomes a more likely companion for a 
worthy man, should she marry ; and should she be 
defrauded in — as society terms it — her legitimate 
sphere, or bereft in other ways, she can build for 
herself an invincible refuge, wherein her life may 
be blessed with its daily fruition, and find shelter 
from the sullen clouds of utter uselessness, that 
morbidly press down upon the victim, to stifle all 
of brightness or hope in dire melancholy.” 

She again paused to slake her thirst, for her 
voice had become dry and husky, but no one spoke. 
All eyes were rivetted upon her, absorbed in her 
spirited ideas. Naturally she resumed : 

Should she not require the wage of her work, 
I hold to the belief that she ought not to depreciate 
the labour that may be vital to some other less 
fortunate woman, by doing it for nothing, or, as my 
father used to say, ‘ hy crowding her out hy glut- 
ting the market* . . . Again, the higher and more 
illustrious her social position the nobler her act, for 
she sets an example — sets the fashion, as you might 
say, Mr Bacon — to those feeble-minded enough to 
deem themselves degraded through necessitous 
labour. She imparts her personal dignity, gives a 
royal stamp of sterling worth to the nobility of 


96 HEEBERT SEVERANCE. 

labour. Finally, her ambition, her genius are on a 
par with man’s ; but these I refrain from entering 
upon, for I have already given too free rein to my 
hobby, spurred on by your respectful patient 
audience. I fear I should ride rough-shod over 
you till Doomsday unless I cry a halt ! ” 

Baroness de Sillvermann gently said : “ I glory in 
your spirit. Miss Longstreth ; but my dear girl, do 
not become a misogamist or a misanthropist. One 
is so apt to be carried away beyond all reason by 
such ideas, and become fanatical.” 

“ I hope not in my case, madam. For whereas 
I despise human littleness and narrow-mindedness 
that run in a rutted groove, I especially contemn 
misanthropy, and regard marriage as sacred, in- 
deed, too holy for generalisation — I simply adore 
an exalted, magnanimous, broad condition of human 
nature. I even find consideration for an out-and- 
out barefaced, bold crime ; whereas, I should be 
tempted to order a grovellivg sneak or a liar to the 
scaffold ! ” 

At this juncture, Baron de Sillvermann vouch- 
safed : 

“My dear Miss Longstreth, your views impinge 
upon an autonomic state ! I affirm, if you will 
allow me to Anglicise the pat German phrase, that 
any woman, however clever and gifted with execu- 
tive powers, without a good prime minister and a 
well-organised parliament would soon make a 
" mish-mash ’ of any government ! ” 

A general and hearty laugh ensued. This was 
the Baron’s successful coup to dismiss the topic. 


feDITH^S THEOEIES. 


97 


Just then, as though awakening from a dream, the 
bank’s ward bent across the table. 

“ Then,” she said in a half- whisper to Edith, 
“ I must work or be a mere drone, a mere parasite, 
according to your ideas ? I fancy I should like to 
exercise the power you spoke of as inspiring some 
women, so I’ll be an opera singer.” 

This was too much for Baron de Sillvermann. 
He broke out in a deprecatory tone : 

“ Now, now, my young rebellionists, do not be 
totally absurd ! You’ll disorganize my peaceful 
family if you keep on. Helene, Fanny, don’t you 
also Avant to work ? ” 

“No, papa, we are only too glad to be out of 
school, and done with long, tiresome hours of 
study and practice,” dolorously replied Fanny, 
who was not quite so lymphatic as her sister, 
who followed pathetically. 

“The awful practice.” The young men cast 
sly glances at each other, still cringing under the 
memory of the result of that aivfid 'practice. 
“ That was work enough. Then, papa, we have 
no time in the season, and out of the season we 
have already too much to do,” finished she with a 
long-drawn sigh. 

“Surely, you Avill admit that Lady Burdett 
Coutts is an admirable business woman, and some 
members of your family, my dear Nathan, have 
certainly distinguished themselves as women finan- 
ciers ? ” said the baroness to her husband, as they 
all left the table. 


98 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


He sliook his finger, first at the baroness, then 
more menacingly at Miss Longstreth. 

“You see. Miss Insurrectionist, your firebrand 
has ignited the very heartcore of my household ! ” 

Profuse in expressions of appreciation and delight, 
the young men took their departure in admirable 
form, each one feeling that the evening must be 
calendared as one to remember in the future. 

Jasper Rodgers, who had been strangely reticent 
all evening, was the first to break silence as they 
drove to their hotel. 

“By Jove, that Miss Longstreth is an odd 
stick ! ” 

“ A trifle eccentric, perhaps, for a young woman 
educated in France and Germany. You must 
credit her at least as being utterly free from 
affectation,” spoke Kingston, in a tone of defence 
of the young lady. 

“ That’s all right, but I adhere to my point. 
It is deucedly strange she should be so erratic. 
She’s a devilish fine-looking, stylish girl, rich and 
all that, so it cannot be she has flown off at a 
tangent in consequence of some love affair or social 
slight. I say, Kingston, she let you have it fair and 
square, eh ? ” 

“ Not at all, Jasper. What 1 said was a decoy 
to call the girl out. Her fearlessness carries out 
what I divined from her hands, don’t it, Dick ? 
She grasps every difficulty by the nape, as if she 
had to deal with an obstreperous child, who might 


Edith’s theohies. 


99 


bite and wanted to kick. Dick, come, confess wliy 
you soured on her ? ” 

“ On the contrary, Ned, she captivated me, 
and I cried out for (piarter while my heart was 
whole.” 

Oh-h-h, the traitor ! the traitor ! ” said Bacon. 
“ How about Philomela ? Dick, you’ve either the 
- instincts of a Mormon, or else you’re as fickle as 
the wind. We will give you one minute and thirty 
seconds to the tick, to put in a disclaimer.” 

“ Harry, your effrontery is rich. Don’t you realise 
that as a piece of mortgaged property, you have no 
right to criticise us, or to be philandering about 
under false colours. I, for one, think the moment 
a fellow is engaged, he should be labelled in some 
unmistakable way, and consigned to suffer a penalty 
if he interfered with free men ! ” retorted Dick. 

All this superficial chatter was but as the surface 
ripples dimpling a quiet sea, when a vagrant serial 
sprite flutters over it. Each one of these men, deep 
down in his own heart, felt the quickening of senti- 
ments he sought to cover up and disguise to the 
others. 


CHAPTER VIL 


HOMEWARD BOUND. 

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, 

Creeps in this petty pace from day to day.” 

HE young men adjusted their date in order to 



return on the same day with Mr and JJfrs A. 
Tuttle Bleecker, in whose custody Miss Corndille 
was to voyage. At the last moment the entire 
party were more than delighted to ascertain that 
Miss Longstreth had concluded to go also. 

Mr and Mrs Bleecker proved a decided acquisi- 
tion instead of a hindrance to the young folk’s 
entertainments. They were ready to fall in wdth 
every newly concocted pastime that in any way con- 
tributed to the general fund of enjoyment, and 
thereby managed to keep in abeyance all of Mother 
Grundy’s tattle. 

The number of this little party made them 
entirely independent of other passengers. Their 
devotion to each other remained a problem unsolved 
to the end by those outside of the charmed circle. 
Verily these young people crossed the Atlantic 
under most propitious circumstances. The weather 
was most delightful, notwithstanding the prophecies 


HOMEWARD BOUND. 


101 


wlien they embarked for blustering gales. Every 
hour was enjoyable. Had one amongst them a 
single qualm of sea-sickness, the disagreeable fact 
was not alluded to once during the voyage. One 
day lapsed into an other- so swiftly, the time was all 
too short. They sketched, sang, read, and talked 
with a goodly amount of lazy dalliance, that one 
must indulge in if seeking to know the full enjoy- 
ment, the special enjoyment of a vo3^age. 

The constitutional promenades, when the rollick- 
ing breezes played pranks with the ladies’ garments 
and tresses ; the timid and reckless wagers about 
the daily log, how many sea-gulls, or whales, or 
porpoise, or crafts would be seen ; the speculations 
as to the number of the pilot boat ; the hanging 
over the balustrade looking down upon the steerage 
passengers dancing and gaming, were each con- 
secutively engaged in with the zest of the genuine 
traveller who never grumbles, but takes things as 
they come, and foots it all up in his book of 
experience as so much to his credit. 

Dick’s interest in Clarisse had grown rapidly. 
Not that he was admittedly in love with the girl, 
but she interested him thoroughly. She was truly 
in a formative state of mind, like a lovely bud 
about to blossom out in beauty in time. She said 
so little about her previous life, which was rather 
unusual in Dick’s former experience with young 
girls, especially at sea. “ Was she merely reticent ? ” 
or secretive ? ” were queries which came unbidden, 
which he kept striving to decide ixi his owr rni^d, 


102 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


One day, when amusement lagged, an irrepres- 
sible Yankee, one of the restless, nervous, active 
individuals, who are reputed to sit up nights to 
get ahead of their feilow-creatures, made a wager, 
free to all, that he could ensnare a sea-gull with a 
reel of linen thread. 

He was almost coughed down by the male pas- 
sengers, who had wearied of his incessant attempts 
to play the social mountebank. At this particular 
moment he was in special disfavour through 
having perpetrated a shameless practical joke upon 
a very illustrious professor of philosophy, who had 
been seriously befooled into making an absurd 
blunder by this Uncomfortahle s sharpness. 

However, he freely declared he “ was not to be 
boycotted ” nor sat upon ” by the men. He 
circulated familiarly among the ladies, soon to 
enlist their interest, and educe from them positive 
expressions of their amazement and incredulity, 
as well as eagerness to witness the trial. 

Clarisse, with child-like simplicity, kept asking 
him ; “ How is it possible ? Are you not, Mr 
Cypher, playing one of your jokes upon us?” 

“ My dear young lady, ’tis a fact, I declare ; I’m 
in dead earnest,” he answered. Taking a reel of 
linen thread from his pocket, he began to unfasten 
the end. “ And if 3mu’ll lend me your assistance, 
you alone shall accomplish the deed. If you’ll 
step aft with me, we’ll secure our snare to the flag- 
staff, and await results.” 

Clarisse hesitated. Dick was frowning, Mrs 


HOMEWARD BOUND. 


103 


Bleecker looked askance. She appealed to Edith 
for support. 

Will you come too ? ” 

''I’ve no objections,” replied Edith, "but we 
must make up our minds to be laughed at by 
everybody.” 

This expression was enough for Mrs Bleecker. 
She rose. 

" Very well, Clarisse, we will all give you coun- 
tenance by our presence. After all, it passes away 
the time, and may prove a novel amusement.” 
Dear little lady, ever dispensing saving pro- 
prieties, and never seeming bored or reluctant. 

Mr Bleecker ’s parting shaft sent them tripping 
away in great glee. 

" Great Neptune ! what a pack of Simon Pure 
zanies ! You’ve no balance to lose, or I’d caution 
you not to fall overboard ! ” 

Seeing this rather exclusive party move away 
with the Uncomfortcible, many of the other pas- 
sengers made a stampede to follow them, but were 
unceremoniously checked by the officer on the 
bridge roaring out — 

" Only six at a time on the turtle-back ! Stand 
away, there ; stand away ! ” 

Mrs Bleecker, Edith, Clarisse, the U ncomfortahle, 
Dick, Henry Bacon, and one sailor held their places, 
while the crowd settled back on to the main deck ; a 
throng of disbelievers, just ready to burst out in 
derisive shouts at the failure they fully expected to 
witness. 


104 


HERBERT SEVERA^XE. 


One end of the thread was securely wound around 
the flag-staff ; a number of long lengths floated out 
in the breeze in open loops, fastened to and across 
the first attachment ; then the Uncomfortable 
baited an extra long length of the thread with some 
crumbs of egg yolk boiled hard, which he had taken 
the precaution to provide himself with at the outset. 
This done to his grinning satisfaction, he instructed 
Miss Corneille. 

“ Now, Miss, unfurl this guy ; permit it to float 
on the breeze so, drawing it slowly in, and letting 
it out so,” he suited action to his words, “ and hold 
it below, if possible, the other loops, until a gull 
attacks it, then flirt it upwards so, in order that 
the loops shall hit its wings, and you’ll have a 
bird ! ” 

At these words a concert of guffaws agitated the 
unbelievers. 

I guess,” he Yankeed, ‘‘ we had better clear 
this deck. Miss, and leave you alone ; the birds are 
mighty shy.” 

“ No, don’t ! pray, don’t, Mr Cypher. I shall do 
something wrong, and lose my bird ! Pray, do stay, 
Mr Cypher, and help me ! ” spasmodically screamed 
Clarisse, who was already in the true novice sports- 
man’s spirit, and feeling the terror of buck blind- 
ness, for a gull had been swirling in wide circles 
about the thread snare for a moment or two. 

However, the others retired back to the main 
deck, leaving Uncomfortable as Clarisse’s mentor. 
, . . S^ve^c^l birds hovered in perilous proximity. 


homewaud bound. 


105 


Clarisse was alert and quick as a cat to obey his 
whispered instructions. Once the toil almost held an 
unwary venturer, but the buck blindness, fatal to 
all novices, deluded her. She jerked the guy-thread 
too quickly, missed the bird, a great “ Oh-h-h-h ! ” 
emitted from the open-mouths of the gazers. Poor 
Clarisse was wild under the nervous tension of her 
present occupation. Uncomfortable cautioned her to 
“ hee'p your hair on, Miss’^ gave a few additional 
charges how to entangle the bird, then drew aside 
to await results. 

Soon the birds returned, cawing in a harsh, dis- 
cordant manner, evidently much concerned about 
the fluttering bait that they greedily hung over, 
ready to pounce upon when they felt it to be safe. 

Interest had converted the scoffers to the belief 
that it was at least barely possible that the thing 
might be done, but hardly probable. 

A young bird swooped down. This venturesome 
gullkin snipped and snipped, darting away and re- 
turning to the bait. Clarisse dropped her guy- 
thread, Uncomfortable like a flash seized the en- 
tangling loops of the floating snare, and the luck- 
less, struggling bird was drawn with pinioned wings 
on board, amid shrieks of joy from Clarisse, and 
wonderment from the spectators ! 

The almost imperceptible weight of the thread 
upon the upper surface of the bird’s sensitive wings 
had caused it to lose control of them, and the wind- 
snarled meshes were sufficiently strong to retain the 
powerless, affrighted bird. 


106 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


Clarisse was almost frantic over her ultimate 
success, the whole procedure was exciting and 
novel. Uncomfortable, was more than ever 
puffed up with bragging egotism, and, if possible, 
more ubiquitous than ever. 

A general wish was soon abrew that the experi- 
ment had failed, rather than that this blow-hard 
Uncomfortable should have had the chance to go 
about crowing like a triumphant cock when the 
hen’s cackle announces a new-laid egg. He became 
insufferably officious and intrusive, snubbed in 
the end by everybody. 

Such men have no sensitiveness ; they are 
hiped-rhincsceri, which nothing hurts or curbs, 
and possess a blind assurance that nothing can 
intimidate. They always travel first class, pounce 
upon the very best, elbow themselves every place, 
talk above every person else, try to take the initia- 
tive. On shipboard they plunge across the deck to 
tuck the ladies' rugs about them, point out the most 
desirable spots sheltered from wind, in or out of 
the sun ; join, one after another, the promen- 
aders; know every passenger, at least by name, 
within eight-and-forty hours after sailing ; often 
more than useful, more than kind ; generous to a 
fault, yet, notwithstanding their intrinsic goodness, 
they are systematically and characteristically un- 
comfortable. 

Poor Clarisse, ever after the bird- capture, used 
to peer wistfully around the corner before she 
would venture out of the companion-way on 


HOMEWARD BOUND. 


107 


the deck, for the moment Mr Cypher spied her, he 
would bolt towards her regardless of appearances, 
sometimes leaving abruptly some one he had 
engaged in conversation, throw up his arms 
wildly — 

My ’ sweet angel ! where shall I put your 
chair ? Let me assist you. Do have my rugs 
and cushions.” 

Finally, Mr Bleecker suggested to Uncomfortable 
that he was altogether too demonstrative, and that 
the ladies of his party were most fastidious obser- 
vers of conventionalities. 

Oh ! I see, Bleecker, you don’t want me to be 
civil to your ladies ? ” he shouted, loud enough for 
the neighbouring passengers to hear. 

‘‘You have interpreted my meaning exactly, and 1 
must insist that you refrain from future annoyance,” 
coldly stated Mr Bleecker, turning on his heels and 
walking away from the Uncomfortable, who had 
plunged his hands deep into his trousers pockets, 
straddled his legs wide apart, evidently calculating 
to brawl out his opinion of “ Old man Bleecker to 
his teeth,” but had reckoned without his host. 

This snubbing proved effectual, so far as the 
Bleecker party were concerned. Immediately after- 
wards he instituted a series of petty, although 
aggravating performances under their very eyes. 
The fruit and other dainties he had before been in 
the habit of bestowing upon them, he now distri- 
buted with great parade to the vulgar women of a 
cheap variety show,* whose chairs he took great 


108 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


pains to plank down within ear-shot of the 
Bleeckers ; then he would talk at them at the 
top of his brassy voice. 

Soon he tired himself out at this dodge, and 
sought elsewhere for amusement, not because he 
felt their repulses with any spirit, nor that his 
course was to him infra dig., but his irrepressible 
nature chafed under restraint. Hence he bought 
more active diversions — played shuffle-board, tug- 
of-war, tossed coppers, bought shares in all the 
pools, played poker, sometimes winning, some- 
times losing, but 'played fool 'without a rival. 

Unfortunately there is no law against these 
Uncowfortahles. They always have travelled, they 
always will, for their race is far too prolific to ever 
become extinct ; indeed they spring up like mush- 
rooms in every country. You cannot bet that they 
are Yankees,’' nor can you safely say "^they are 
English, you know,” but that they are foreigners to 
the best, the most refined elements of well-bred 
society, and should be hooted down as insufferable 
nuisances, goes without saying in every language the 
world over. 

The evening previous to landing, the steamer was 
skirting the shore, the lights were visible on Coney 
Island, and the rockets were bursting in showers of 
blue, green, red, and flame-coloured stars from 
Manhattan Beach. The passengers were agitated 
by the usual excitement inspired by the approach to 
the destined port. 

I wish there was no to-morrow,” Clarisse said 


HomeWaIid Sound. 


109 


in alialf-sad tone to Dick ; this is like a dream or 
a fairy scene.” 

“ Why ? ” asked Dick. “ For all to-morrows 
may bear a strong semblance to the to-days, if we 
wish it so to be.” 

“ Perhaps. But, Mr Drysdale, you do not know 
how tviste is my position. Par exemj>le, I am 
coming to a strange land, to strangers who are here- 
after to figure in my life, and may have some right 
to control my actions. For, I have never seen my 
guardian, although I was eighteen last June. 
Stranger too, Baron de Sillvermann told me I might 
be in New York a month before meeting him, as 
he was absent from town on business. It would 
have given me great pleasure, you must know, to 
have at least been welcomed in person by some one 
who loves me, or is interested in my welfare. You 
cannot blame' me if I feel sick at heart over the 
enforced coldness of my reception. The Italian 
and French people with whom I have been brought 
• up, are so effusive in their cordiality, that I have 
sometimes even felt the ceremonious coldness of the 
English hard for me to get on with. But, Mr 
Drysdale, this kind of indifference on the part of my 
guardian, seems too much like neglect, to endure 
without a sigh.” 

“Never mind. Miss Corndille, we will try to help 
you bear your cross. I for one hope to mitigate 
in some small measure the regret you may experience 
on this score, if you will accept my most devoted 
homage.” Dick was tempted to say what was 


lio 


llKRBEtlt gEVERA:>^Cn]. 


uppermost in liis lieart, but checked himself through 
an innate sense of propriety. It was taking the girl 
at a disadvantage, at a weak moment, when she 
might misinterpret her own feelings. . . . 

He wanted to ask the name of her guardian, but 
was far too delicate to evince inquisitiveness. 
Clarisse, in her veritable gratefulness for Dick’s 
undisguised sympathy, said feelingly, as she looked 
him fair in the eyes : 

“ What have I done to deserve your friendship, 
Mr Drysdale ? ” 

‘‘ Lived to be known.” He paused. Dare he, 
ought he, to say more ? He yearned to do so, yet he 
hesitated — it was too late ! 

Up came Mr Bleecker from the saloon to hustle 
the young people below, to pick up all their belong- 
ings, and see that their hand-baggage and wraps 
were all together, for they were to land to-night. 

The voyage was at an end. They were all belter 
acquainted, and a genuine good fellowship had 
grown up between them as a party, as individuals, 
by the time they landed at New York. 

They disembarked in excellent spirits, with inter- 
change of invitations and acceptances for speedy 
reunions, sam ceremonie. 

Richard Drysdale found his uncle, Herbert Sever- 
ance, absent from town when he arrived, therefore 
instead of complying with the understanding that he 
had come to with his uncle, after many upbraidings, 
to live with him when he returned from Europe 
this time, he was necessitated to establish himself 


HOMEWARD BOUND. 


Ill 


pro tern, at Lis favourite hotel. Here he was 
greeted on all sides, from the cordial proprietor to 
the burly porters, as a much esteemed client. 

Fancy Dick’s delight to. receive, in the course of 
the next day, the following note : — 

Dear Drysdale, — Our home comforts are 
sadly disturbed through the defective condition in 
which we find the plumbing. Repairs are absolutely 
necessary before we can safely occupy the dwelling. 

This brings me to request a favour at your 
hands, knowing you have friends at court. If you 
can secure at the Victoria, suitable accommodations 
for my wife and self, the two young ladies, and our 
attendants, we will come at once. 

“Answer per messenger if convenient, and believe 
me, dear Drysdale, yours truly, 

Algernon T. Bleecker.” 

“ Friday Morning, 

Washington Square.” 

Dick lost not one moment in button-holing the 
proprietor, Mr Hoyt. He took a coup d'ceil of 
the situation, quickly saw that his long-timed client 
particularly desired for some personal reason — oh 
yes, the young ladies, of course — to have his friends 
inmates of his hotel. This was enough for him. 
It should be done. He possessed the ingenious 
faculty of impressing every guest with the flattering 
idea that their individual comfort, happiness, and 
interest were above all entitled to his special con- 
sideration, and that his hotel was their house. 


112 


tlETlBEllT SEVERANCE. 


Dick was enabled to send prompt reply. 

My Dear Mr Bleecker, — Have arranged to 
the best of my ability. Enclosed find scale of 
prices, &c. Call and consider personally. 

“ My compliments to the ladies. — Yours to 
command, R. Drysdale.” 

Friday Noon^ Victoria.” 

In due course the Bleecker party were cosily 
installed. Through their desire for seclusion, they 
arranged for a private table in their own apartment. 

Dick was not, then, to be as fortunate as he had 
dared to hope. The vagrant idea had in truth 
floated through his brain that when they came to 
the hotel, the unreserved steamer life w^ould obtain. 

However, the restrictions were not so rigid but 
that he was frequently the Bleeckers guest at table, 
and daily paid with all decorum — considering the 
prying eyes at every corner, in every corridor, of 
every hotel — his formal devoirs to the ladies. 

Thanks, to the blessed independence of American 
customs, and thanks, to the fact that none of this 
select coterie were Anglomaniacs, he not infrequently 
escorted the young ladies to the opera or theatre. 
For here a man, judged by his personal demeanour, 
is taken for a gentleman on parole of honour, and is 
not insulted by the ignominious European suspicion 
that treats him as if he were a varlet, needing the 
closest espionage lest he commit some depravity that 
shall contamiuate or smirch the purity of a young 


fiOMEWAKD BOUND. 


113 


girl, — a custom throughout the old world that makes 
all social mingliug for the unmarried, stilted and 
ungenial, depriving young women and men of 
the haul monde of a free companionship, that is 
conducive to frankness, freedom, and true-hearted- 
ness, removed from dissimulation and intrigues. 


H 


CHAPTER VIIL 


FOR SWEET CHARITY. 

“ We’ll revel it as bravely as the best, 

With ruflf, and cuff, and farthingale and things.” 

“ You with your foes combine. 

And seem with your own destruction to design.” 

M r and Mrs A. Tuttle Bleecker were most 
lovable and considerate in every con- 
ceivable way to their young girl charges, never 
for an instant lagging in their solicitude for them ; 
in truth they tried to make each successive day 
pleasanter and happier than its predecessor for 
these two light-hearted natures. 

No wonder that they were about the most 
popular and available couple to all the young people 
in their extensive set in New York society. They 
never scowled upon the so-called frivolities of youth, 
for, as Mrs Bleecker was wont to say : 

‘‘ What was once in the long ago to me so en- 
jo3’able, although only a matter of passing fancy, 
no real staple to life’s bare necessities, a mere illu- 
sion, I can yet feel has an irresistible fascination for 
the young. And I do not propose to make myself 
a crabbed old dame, going about trying to lop off 


t’OR SWEET' CHAHITY. 


115 


these harmless superficialities, to be detested, and 
voted an unwelcome terror, dreaded by the young 
people whenever I put in an appearance.” 

Nor did she. Every girl or youth who sought 
Mrs Bleecker s connivance when they were on the 
eve of perpetrating an outre action, or got into a 
scrape of any kind, always did so with the foregone 
conclusion that if she could possibly, she certainly 
would, lend her sanction, in any case would strive 
to avert the wasps which buzz so many stinging 
scandals. 

The fellows called her " a hrich,'' the girls a 
duchy She, herself, claimed it a privilege to be 
counted as one of them in all their jollities, and as 
their means of salvation when they came to grief. 
She strove to live a life in common with them, 
beyond the haphazard of harsh misunderstandings, 
whenever she sat in council to weigh their motives. 
Her temper was even and mellow, never jerky or 
Aprilish. In her nature surely the leaven had not 
soured. Sunny, adorable little lady, why is your 
name not legion 1 You and your kin have a much- 
neglected mission to perform on earth, to stay the 
underhand intrigues of the evil-minded, who ever 
distort the gambols and gay banter of the incon- 
sequent joyous ones, attributing innocent acts too 
often to the outcome of unworthy intent. 

Edith Longstreth these days devoted much time 
to her easel. She secured a studio among a perfect 
nest of painters of both se.xes, and was fast becoming 
a favourite, indeed was quite d la vogue. Her 


116 liERfiERf severance. 

Sunday afternoon and evening receptions were 
tlironged by the wit and talent of the day, consist- 
ing largely of those who, according to the jargon of 
the hon ton, were denominated “ the select guild of 
Bohemia.” These receptions were devoted to con- 
versation and music. She was veritably in the 
centre of an intellectual throng, and seemed in her 
native element. Then, too, it was, Clarisse shone. 
She was besieged on all sides by admiring satellites, 
who urged her not to hide her talent under a 
bushel, but enter the lyric profession. She had 
memorised the soprano’s role of several operas. 
She was moreover a born actress, it would be so 
easy, only a step. 

Mr Bleecker, who was an old-time beau and 
genial dilettante, thoroughly appreciated le mouve- 
ment, and added verve and go to these artistic and 
musical gatherings. 

When he was approached and pressed by a score 
of prominent women, to express an opinion respect- 
ing the propriety of Clarisse singing in character 
costume, at a charity concert then on the tapis, he 
expressed himself as seeing no harm whatever, if 
she wanted to. The salient point, much emphasised 
by the promoters in their argument, was, “ The 
volunteers are all ladies and gentlemen of high 
standing, therefore Miss Corndille’s social caste 
would not suffer in the least. In fact, had not Mr 
Bleecker, himself, accepted some minor part ? ” 
How these adroit schemers insinuated their inter- 
rogatory wedges, and all for charity ! 


FOR SWEET CHARITY. 


117 


Edith, of course, was foremost and strongest in 
encouraging Clarisse, who only after all, hesitated 
because her guardian had not returned and might 
possibly disapprove. This objection was summarily 
vetoed by Edith and Dick, who were both ever 
appealed to by Clarisse when she was in doubt. 

‘‘ None of your acquaintances,’" urged Dick, 
“ can possibly trump a shadow of disapproval, inas- 
much as Mr Bleecker is to participate; hence I 
should not suppose your guardian could find grounds 
for censure. He seems content to leave you without 
dictation to Mr and Mrs Bleecker’s custody. Follow 
their advice, you can’t go amiss.” 

If you candidly think it modest and not for- 
ward on my part as a comparative stranger, and the 
youngest of the entirp party, to assume the leading 
role, I will be truly delighted to sing. There is 
something fascinating in the idea ! What will 
Count de la Rue say of his wayward la 'petite Philo- 
mela, I wonder, when he hears about my doings ? ” 
Clarisse impulsively clasped her arms about Edith’s 
waist, waltzed with her about the room, giving vent 
to gleesome ripples of subdued laughter ; the per- 
sonification of a blithesome child of nature, who was 
not ashamed to laugh and dance and sing when her 
heart was jocund. 

Her hair tumbled down from its pinnings about 
her shoulders in a luxuriant mass of wavy, shim- 
mering gold. Finally, the two girls flounced breath- 
less upon a sofa, full of animation, their faces 
flushed by the exercise and excitement. 


118 


HEEBEPvT SEVERANCE. 


There ! ” exclaimed Clarisse, “ dancing is my 
safety-valve ! ” as she gathered her tresses hastily 
np into a knot, and jabbed an arrow through the 
disordered mass. 

“I’m sure Mr Drysdale is shocked,” said Edith. 

“ Quite to the contrary. It is charming to wit- 
ness an unaffected out-gush behind the scenes, I 
assure you,” protested Dick, his eyes beaming with 
admiration upon Clarisse. 

The plan of the Charity Concert once decided 
upon, the most conservative society women pushed 
forward W”ith indefatigable zeal, avowing their intent 
to make the enterprise a success at any cost. . . . 
Little three-cornered caucuses were held in drawing- 
rooms, devising ways and means to effect their pur- 
pose. The entire body of the officious which every 
society fosters, circulated here, there, everywhere, to 
solicit this, that, and the other for nothing, it being 
for charity. . . . Into every available prey’s ears 
they poured eloquent words, designed to incite per- 
sonal goodness, personal generosity in behalf of this 
their worthy object. Even Clarisse did not escape 
the sycophants’ cunning flattery and charitable 
twaddle. They plied her artfully. 

“ So young, so gifted, so beautiful ; what a 
lamentable thing it would have been to have with- 
held her aid. A ward that was to prove such a 
bounty to her suffering fellow-creatures 1 Did Miss 
Corneille perchance know the amount of suffering 
there was in New York ? No. Ah, it was just 


FOR SWEET CHARITY. 


119 


as well she remained in ignorance ; the knowledge 
might eclipse her light-heartedness ! ” 

Everything w^orked successfully to silence 
Clarisse’s feeble protest that after all she was only 
an amateur and no actress. She had neither 
courage nor faith ; she felt she certainly would 
make a disgraceful fiasco. 

No use ; her way w^as not hearkened to. Forth- 
with the practice and rehearsals began. Daily she was 
carefully coached by the peerless impresario, Maurice 
Strackosh. La Traviata, mainly because of the 
quality of her voice, was the opera selected. Once 
the project was fairly launched, she was neither 
lacking in aptitude nor fervent zest; and Edith 
kept her spurred up without relaxation. Then, too, 
Edith’s talent was called into requisition. She it 
was who designed the costumes. She had been 
implored to do so, and had no wish to decline ; 
however, she observed that the most pertinacious 
solicitors for funds and labour wrere too often the 
most niggardly in their personal donations or real 
assistance. Her fine open nature struggled hard 
to repress her opinion to these lobbyists ; but, she 
concluded, it did not much matter, they worked 
according to their owm light, they laid out the 
roads, others must break the stone. 

Dick’s rooms were at the very top of the hotel, 
and he w^as a passionate lover of music. It was 
agreed among themselves that many of the re- 
hearsals should be held there, in preference to their 
own rooms, in order not to disturb the other 


120 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


inmates of the hotel. However, every one was on 
the qui vive. There was any amount of promen- 
ading through the corridors and halls, followed by 
extensive halts at the foot of a particular out-of-the- 
way staircase, and in front of windows opening into 
skylight wells, where the singing resounded with 
great distinctness. 

Finally, the proprietor of the hotel was besieged 
by all of his guests to try and persuade the com- 
mittee to give one full-dress rehearsal in the spacious 
dining-hall of the hotel, to which we unanimously 
offer to subscribe liberally.” 

Through the daily newspapers the coming event 
had speedily acquired such wide-spread notoriety 
that the women not already in the affair were in a 
craze to enter as recruits to amass more funds, and 
be known ‘"as workers in the noble cause,'^ Their 
vanity showed distinctly through the pet charity, 
but what matter so the cause be served. 

How they pored over the papers containing their 
names in print, purchasing a dozen copies, marked 
with such a bold dash of red opposite their own 
names first, the worthy cause second. Indolent 
comfort-loving women who seldom breakfasted 
before ten o’clock, if so early, made their ap- 
pearance at eight in the morning with their 
bonnets on, ready for a fresh start to waylay fresh 
victims with such an overpowering air of business, 
the men were put to shame. It was the revival of 
the Brazen Age. The Amazon army was curiously 
composed entirely of commander-in -chiefs. Every 


FOR SWEET CHARITY. 


121 


one took the van. Each sniffed at the presumption 
of the others. The taunts, the bitter, unkind 
criticism and comment that brewed, made the 
family life of the poor men a little short of 
purgatorial. 

The proposal which the amiable hotel proprietor 
was urged to make was at the outset scouted by 
the committee as utterly impossible. However, 
when he pointed out their short-sightedness in 
rejecting certain financial advantages to be gained, 
it was reconsidered in close parliament, and deemed 
to be a fine chance indeed to bring more golden 
pieces to their pot for siveet charity, and so the 
grand Mogulesses acceded. 

This new element soon organised into' several 
sub-committees, each stipulating in the beginning 
that they should not be interfered with by, nor 
have any connection with, the so-called outside, 
although original organisation, except to hand over 
the funds to those in authority after the affair was 
at an end. 

Fortunately there was a clear-headed business 
man to adjust and classify the details of the hotel 
entertainment. He kept matters free from the 
confusion that would have inevitably resulted from 
interference and helter-skelter developments in every 
quarter. 

Celebrated painters vied with one other in 
rigging up portions of the scenery. Combined 
devices resulted in the most novel and effective 
means of adorning the dining-rooms in a brilliant 


122 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


and enchanting fashion, which tended to lend a 
bewildering attractiveness to the mise en scene 
without precedent. 

Flowers were collected in waggon loads from 
every accessible quarter. Every friend or patron’s 
conservatory was rifled. The countless columns 
supporting the walls of the first story and the 
dining-rooms were completely entwined wdth gor- 
geous blossoms and evergreens. The atmosphere 
was redolent with perfume. The drawing-room 
floor, wdth its succession of spacious looms, was 
thrown entirely open to guests. The exquisite 
decorations were enhanced by the lovely multi- 
coloured crystal flowers which formed the globes 
enclosing the electric lights, showing midst the 
prismatic danglers of the cut-glass chandeliers. 
They looked like massive bouquets of luminous 
flowers. 

One of the regular denizens of the hotel, anxious 
for the reclame , — a man this time, — who had 
amassed a fortune out of his patent for an electric 
fountain, begged the privilege of liaving the honour 
of contributing a specimen fountain, to be raffled 
for after the entertainment for the benefit of the 
charity fund. This w^as placed in the lower cor- 
ridor, and sent glittering shafts of illuminated 
water up several stories high through the space 
formed by the circular marble stairway, splashing 
down again into the basin like tinkling showers of 
golden ducats, as if the contents of the money bags 
of an invisible Croesus had been tumbled out. 


FOU SWEET CHARITY. 


123 


Everything was resplendent when ten o’clock 
w-^re round on this famous evening. The ladies dis- 
played their magnificent toilets with supreme satis- 
faction, untrampled, uncrushed by a rushing crowd. 
The attendance had been limited to three hundred 
at ten dollars an invitation, not transferable, for 
there were no vulgar tickets. 

A clique of young snobs — the king of the dudes 
and his ministry — a party of five, who had just 
returned from Europe the afternoon prior to the 
Grand Full Dress Rehearsal, were, in their own 
vernacular, “ mad with disappointment because we 
can’t go, y’u know.” 

Nagged by the fellows at the clubs, the king of 
dudedom was nigh distraction to find the barriers 
up against him. His absence would be remarked. 
Finally, he bet five hundred dollars that he could 
get five invitations in spite of the lateness of the 
hour. So off he bolted, arms and legs more like 
dislocated pudding bags than ever, his walking stick 
grasped in the middle like a balancing pole, held the 
reverse way, his monocle set deep and resolutely 
in his eye — bolted off to the governing powers to 
state the situation, plead his case, and offer a bribe. 

“ I’ll, by Jove ! I’ll give one hundred dollars 
each for the five invitations. And, by Jove ! I’ll 
toss the wager into the pot, rawthur than not go ! ” 

Mrs Bleecker, as lady manager, protested that 
unfortunately the number authorised was long since 
exhausted, and that there absolutely could not be 
issued another invitatiou. 


124 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


“By Jove! deuced rough, y’u know, to have 
such a cut, when we’ve just returned from abrawd 
where we’ve been awfully feted. Always like to 
be in the swim, y’u know. By Jove 1 ^1000 will 
be a third of your present funds. Dear amiawable 
Mrs Bleecker, do be lenient. Most aw-fully 
Iiumiliating to be twitted by some of the parvemies, 
they've such a lot of gall — ’t’aint fair, y’u know !” 

Mrs Bleecker kept cogitating over the thousand 
dollars. She concluded to entreat the president of 
her faction 

“ Mr Hoyt, you know that you, as the president 
of the fund, have certain discretionary powers. 
Besides,” sotto voce, “a thousand dollars is not to 
be ignored. It has taken six weeks unremitting 
work to collect three thousand dollars, at an actual 
outlay of three thousand, five hundred, and ninety- 
eight dollars, and ninety-nine cents I Do say yes, 
pray do, Mr Hoyt, and I’ll take the brunt of it.” 

The president rubbed his head. What he 
thought, in fine, will never be known. He looked 
like a man who needed rest Graciously, as usual, 
he made a satisfactory decision, and turned to the 
king of the dudes : 

“Very well, sir, we will accede to your pro- 
position, in consideration of the fact that your 
absence hindered you from procuring the invitations 
in due season in the regular course.” 

Of course the premium was not allowed to 
appear as weighing in the young swell’s favour. 

Mr Hoyt proceeded to write out the coveted bits 


J'OR SWfiEf CifAUlTY. 


125 


of pasteboard, handing them to the conquering 
hero, who, in the glory of his conquest, put down as 
quid 'pro quo only five hundred dollars, and turned 
on his heels after profuse but hasty thanks. The 
president, perhaps only from force of business habit, 
quickly counted the notes, and spoke up loudly as 
the victor was disappearing. 

“ I beg your pardon, sir, you’ve made a mistake. 
You were to give us a thousand dollars !” and he 
displayed the notes. 

“ Hwh ! — y-a-a-s — y-a-a-s, beg pard’n — deuced 
stupid, y’u know,” and this parody of a man looked 
in confusion over his linen bulwarks, and wrote out 
a check for the deficit, which the president signi- 
ficantly collected before the bank closed that day. 

The Full Dress Rehearsal was a novelty, “it caught 
on,” and proved the this years seven days’ wonder 
of Gath. Thoroughly artistic, not in the least 
amateurish, it was the ultima thule of a New York 
“ elegant charity ’’ a new-fangled dodge in the 
hide-and-seek game of “ beggar and almoner.” And 
this side issue in no way deprived of its eclat the 
regular and first conceived public entertainment to 
be given a fortnight later, but, to the contrary, set 
everybody agog, and induced the would-be fashion- 
ables to attend, and they, with true human gre- 
gariousness, packed the Academy of Music from pit 
to dome. 

Clarisse had assumed as a transparent disguise 
the nom de theatre Julie Gautier. Her success, the 
excitement, the pleasure in flashing before an 


12(3 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


enthusiastic public, out of the sequestered strong- 
hold of convent, were delights carrying her far 
beyond her wildest dreams. Her brain reeled under 
the intoxication of the new experience. Everything 
in private life afterward seemed so flat and un- 
savoury, hollow as soap-bubbles, all individual 
compliment. She searched, and searched secretly, 
for a warrantable excuse to proffer her services for 
another estimable charity. 

Life with occupation was assuredly imbued with 
a charm she had never thought possible. She in- 
advertently recalled to memory the wild ecstacy she 
had once felt, as a little child, when one of the old 
abbes brought to her a flower pot with just a wee 
twig of green thrusting up through the sod, the 
promise of a future growth. Hers, all hers. How 
she watched it, cared for it, moving it into the sun- 
shine, sheltering it from the cold, watered it for 
months, when upon the leafed stems the buds 
unfurled into rich full crimson roses, and she plucked 
the first blossom ! It had an intrinsic beauty and 
preciousness to her, because she had grown it ; it 
was the fruit of her personal vigilance, of her un- 
remitting care. 

Recalling these childish reminiscences for the 
moment, and thinking that her recent success was 
all her own, her ambition, her hereditary traits thus 
bourgeon with alluring thrill. Soon her thoughts 
strayed from their starting point. Now it was with 
paramount delight she thought of Dick. He was 
supreme, his love all the glory she craved. 


FOR SWEET CHARITY. 


127 


If it had not been for this vital spark Dick had 
enkindled in her heart, she certainly would have 
followed an ignis faiuus upon the very quicksands, 
tempted by her present craving for excitement, and 
appetised by the flavour of the crumb she had 
nibbled from her gingerbread luorld. 


CHAPTEE IX. 


THE guardian’s RETURN. 


This duty of right intention does not replace or supersede 
the duty of consideration.” 



'HE winter had lapsed into spring before the 


-L proper reparations were satisfactorily finished, 
and the Bleeckers could go back to their long 
abandoned home. Meantime, Clarisse’s guardian, 
delayed beyond expectation, returned. After he 
had formally made the acquaintance of Mr Bleecker, 
who heretofore had been known to him only by 
name, and had consulted his lawyers relative to 
some legal documents, he called upon Clarisse with 
feelings of dread, yet impatient to have the first 
interview over. 

He found her the pearl he hoped to, and was 
beside himself with pride and gratitude that it 
should be thus. Conspire as they had, all his in- 
imical doubts were now set at naught. 

Clarisse said rather chidingly to him, “ I have 
keenly felt your long absence. Pardon me if I 
confess I have felt much neglected by you, sir.” 

He took her hands fondly between his, looking 
her in the face with tenderness. 


I’HE GITARDIAN^S RETURN. 129 

** Ah, well, my child, you have a right to chide 
me. I have not been altogether considerate, but 
my intentions were the very best. It will be my 
hourly effort to make redress for the unfortunate 
circumstances which took me away just when you 
were to arrive. Believe me, it cost me bitter 
regrets. Do you know, little woman, I’ve waited 
to see you many, very many years.” The words 
welled up from his soul. 

“ But why have you waited ? ” 

Circumstances have compelled me to do so. 
However, they’re all past now. I hope you may 
be happy in this countr}^, in your new life, in your 
new home. For the time being I must continue 
to encroach upon Mr and Mrs Bleecker’s hospitality, 
and request them to shelter you and your friend a 
few weeks longer.” 

“ Why ? ” in sui-prise asked Clarisse, with wide- 
open eyes. 

I am in the unlucky plight oT living a bachelor’s 
existence without any matrons or women other than 
servants about me, and it will hardly be suitable 
or in accordance with propriety to install two lovely 
girls alone with me ; at least not until some matters 
are adjusted for your well-being and protection.” 

Clarisse chafed under this announcement. She 
yearned to realise the care and love of this man, 
whom she had been taught by the nuns to revere 
as a superior being, and to look upon as her only 
relative. Since she could lisp, nightly she had 
offered a prayer for bis health and happiness. 

I 


130 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


“ But if you are to be as ray father,” she mur- 
mured regretfully, what harm, what impropriety 
can there be in my going home to you at once ? ” 

“ My dear child,” he was greatly disturbed, only 
the abiding and prevailing sense of decorum.” 

“ Oh, if you only knew how I have longed to go 
to my own home, how I have counted the days 
making the weeks, the weeks the months, and the 
months rolling round into the years until I was 
eighteen, I don’t believe you could keep me away from 
you because of les convenances one hour longer ! ” 
She threw herself upon his shoulder and sobbed 
like a little child, while he, with his great ox-heart 
plunging and surging beneath the strain of sup- 
pressed love for this idolised girl, tried awkwardly 
to soothe her. 

Her sunny disposition soon resumed its bright- 
ness, a mere cloud-burst had passed over her. All 
disappointments she had ever suffered were evanes- 
cent and purely 'emotional. The asperity of any 
sorrow, except perhaps the sense of her orphanage, 
had been warded off, and she had been spared even 
the dire feeling of any actual aloneness. There was 
just possibly a touch of humiliation in her recent 
lachrymose mood. Accustomed all her life to have 
every one cater to her most trifling wish, she was 
hurt and vexed that her guardian should have ap- 
parently evinced utter indifference to her existence. 

Ah well, my child,” he said at the end of their 
interview, “ time alone can prove to you what 
words fail to. In a short time in your own home, 


THE guardian’s RETURN. 


131 


surrounded by my friends, I trust you may find 
measurable substitutes for the life you have been 
compelled to leave behind.” 

I came to you gladly, and left all of my friends 
without any compunctions. Then I have been 
taught to look forward to coming to you as the 
grand affaire of mj life. I have looked upon all 
my education as a preparatory step to attain a life 
near you. The sisters at the convent have told me, 
that you, and only you, could tell me about my 
parents — about my mother — and this I am dying 
to know.” 

As she had talked, her guardian’s countenance 
became very expressive of deep feeling, he knit his 
eyebrows, his lips were compressed, his eyes never 
wandered away from her face. At length, after a 
moment’s silence, he addressed her : 

“ My child, I hope that you will care to call me, 
yes, that you will look upon me as your father, no 
matter what I may reveal to you some day. To 
feel that I had so lovely a daughter, who loved me, 
who leaned upon me, confided in me, would glorify 
my life, and open up to me in my old age a world 
radiant with bliss ! ” 

“ Yes ! yes ! I shall be happy to call you father ! 
Oh ! how happy I am already. I feel drawn to you 
as I have alw’ays dreamed I should be to a father.” 
She knelt down in front of him, with the easy 
familiarity of an indulged childj she toyed with his 
fob-chain, archly turning her head to one side as 
though longing for a favour. 


i32 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


“You will take Edith and me home very, very 
soon ? ” 

He nodded assent as he pressed her temples 
between his hands, kissed fervently her forehead 
several times, patted her shoulders. With scarcely 
a word more, he rose abruptly, and made his adieus, 
promising to see her soon again. 

Once alone, she sat down, lost in a brown study. 
She did not hear Mrs Bleecker’s approaching foot- 
steps, nor did she seem conscious of her presence 
a moment after, till the dear little lady kindly asked 
her : 

“ Do you think you shall like your guardian, my 
dear ? ” 

Clarisse started in surprise. 

“ Like him ? I shall love Mm better than all 
the world ! ” then she relapsed into her meditative 
mood. 

Mrs Bleecker, fearing something unpleasant had 
happened, for Clarisse was not given in her normal 
condition to fits of abstraction, thought to rouse her 
to a more joyous frame of mind. 

“ You know, Clarisse, that Mr Drysdale dines 
here to-night. It’s almost half after six now, and 
you’re not dressed yet.” Diplomatic little lady, how 
easily she knew how to apply the ancient forms 
which in the long ago had stirred her from like 
lethargy. It was effectual. 

“ What a negligent creature I am, to be dawd- 
ling here when I should be dressed 1 Mrs Bleecker, 


THE guardian’s RETURN. 


133 


without knowing exactly why, and apart from the 
joy I have naturally experienced in meeting my 
guardian, I feel here,” she pointed to her heart, 
“ that this afternoon is an important epoch in my 
life. I have an impression — I feel something in 
the air ! ... . Ah, well Edith will make short 
work of my ominous mood. I’ll be dressed in 
twenty minutes ! ” Away she whisked out of the 
room, sprang up stairs, and burst in upon Edith, who 
was on the verge of descending to the drawing-room. 

“ Late again, Edith ! Isn’t it a shame ? Dick 
will be here in no time. Oh dear, dear ! I’ve such 
a budget of news to unfold to you ; but it must be 
later on, for I really must dress in a twinkle.” 

Edith paused curiously an instant to regard 
Clarisse in her breezy excitement. 

Anytime, Clarisse, your budget will be wel- 
come. Tell me, now, just one thing. Do you like 
your guardian ? 

Edith, he’s simply adorable, and just as hand- 
some as a picture ! ” 

“ Clarisse, do you think that he will sanction 
your attachment for Dick ? ” 

Bless my soul, Edith ! I never mentioned Dick 
to him. Besides, I think it but modest to wait till 
Dick tells me himself. Do run away. I’ll never 
get dressed if you talk to me ; and you know how 
punctilious the Bleeckers are about our being 
punctual the moment the bell rings ? ” 

“ Look in the mirror, Clarisse,^’ Edith exclaimed, 
as a parting shot, ''your cheeks are quite as red as the 


134 


HERBERT SEVERINCE. 


Jacqueminot roses you are to wear. Remember the 
song — And love it was a rosy red; A bientot 
mignonneP' 

The door was drawn shut with a bang after 
Edith, as a gust of wind rushed through the open 
wdndow, and carried a photograph of Richard Diys- 
dale from the dressing-table to Clarisse’s feet. 

A conscious smile dimpled her cheeks, and a 
bright gleam shone in her brown eyes, a triumph- 
ant thought glimmered through her brain. In 
spite of her avowed haste to dress, she paused a 
moment. 

Yes, Dick should yet be at her feet in propidd 
persona. 

Was it a vanity to glory in the dream, or was it 
a spontaneous hope of a passionate heart over which 
the wizard -hand of nature had struck a sacred 
chord, that would for ever and ever re-echo and 
fill her soul — like a dedicated temple — with the 
exaltation and religion of love ? 

The true and the false have so many similitudes, in 
honest search one is too often cheated in distinguish- 
ing one from the other. An innocent child finds 
pillowed mid the sedgy grasses, a shining, mottled 
wand; thinking how beautiful, his infantile brain still 
teeming with some nursery fabrication, or the Bible 
miracle of Aarons rod, he seizes it as a treasure 
trove ; he knew it not to be a snake until it 
turned upon him, plunged its venomous fangs deep 
and with deadly viciousness into a vital part. So 
comes knowledge. Experience is the snake. 


I 


CHAPTER X. 


scorpion’s stings. 


“ In this mask of the passions called life there is no human 
Emotion, though mask’d or in man, or in woman. 

But, when faced and unmask’d, it wdll leave us at last 
Struck by some supernatural aspect aghast. 

For truth is appalling and eldrich, as seen 

By this world’s artificial lamp lights, and we screen 

From our sight the strange vision that troubles our life.” 



URING dinner Mrs Bleecker said to Mr 


Drysdale ; “ Lliss Corneille and Miss 

Longstreth, we regret to announce, are soon to 
leave us.” 

Then I infer Miss Corneille’s guardian has 
returned ? ” rejoined Dick, incidentally adding, 
without pause for a repl}^ “ To-morrow morning I 
am to breakfast with an uncle who has been as a 
father to me, and has just returned from a pro- 
tracted trip. So you see. Miss Corneille, I can in 
a way appreciate your feelings, for I shall see my 
relative for the first time since my return.” 

“Mr Drysdale,” with pique spoke up Clarisse, 
“ I’m not willing that any living creature should 
aver that they may measure joy with me ! You 
must know it is the turning-point in my life to 


136 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


meet my guardian. I never saw him until to-day, 
yet it has been my daily and hourly expectation 
since I have been old enough to remember.” 

I beg a thousand pardons, Miss Corndille. I 
assure you I had no desire to belittle your individual 
happiness, nor could I presume to suppose that 
my reunion with my uncle could equal your name- 
less delight in meeting for the first time one who 
has been your North Star!” The earnestness 
with which this was said indicated more than 
ordinary feeling, and put a damper upon the con- 
versation. 

Diplomatic little Miss Bleecker, always on the 
alert for squalls or embarrassing lapses, adroitly 
aimed a remark at Dick. 

“ Without a stretch of imagination, one might 
presume that you were growing cynical, Mr 
Drysdale, or else that you suspect Miss Corndille of 
selfishly desiring a monopoly of happiness ! Come, 
come, my young friends, we want to give as much 
happiness as possible, and not measure happiness 
to-night. I’ve invited all our steamer party here 
this evening to afford them the opportunity of con- 
gratulating Miss Corndille on this climax of her 
romantic life, and I protest against aught that may 
detract a jot from our full enjoyment.” 

Dick cast a questioning glance at Edith. 

Miss Longstreth, may I enli.st you in the 
service of my defence against my two conspiring 
foes?” 

“Certainly, Mr Drysdale, with pleasure. Now 


scorpion’s stings. 


137 


to begin my new role of Portia, allow me to suggest, 
in my judgment, you have a choice of two courses.” 

“ Ah, that sounds refreshing.” He eyed defiantly 
Claiisse and Mrs Bleecker. 

First, rather than enter into a lengthy and 
expensive litigation, — for it would cost you the 
forfeiture of a charming evening, wherein you should 
be condemned to sulk on the stool of repentance 
unnoticed, — that you plead guilty, and sue for 
clemency, because of extenuating circumstances ; 
or else, as your second resort, assume boldly, without 
respect to facts, that your innocence has been 
unduly impeached, and demand damages, entitling 
you to the generous opportunity of forgiving your 
foes !” Her decrees, with penances, always against 
Dick, provoked great glee. 

Hear ! hear ! ” shouted Mr Bleecker with gusto, 
striking the table with the handle of his knife and 
fork. Edith turned with mock severity upon him. 

Sir ! such boisterousness is unbecoming the 
traditional dignity of the senior member of the house 
of Bleecker, and, sir, I must assume the painful duty 
of w'arning you, sir, should you, sir, again so far 
forget yourself, sir, I shall, sir, be obliged, sir, to 
commit you, sir, for contempt of court, sir ! ” 

A general peal of laughter resulted, making the 
glasses upon the dinner table send back jingling 
echo. Edith was swept from her assumed dignity 
by the explosive merriment, and vainly endea- 
vouring to get attention, cried out in a spasmodic 
staccato way, Ladies ! gen-tle-men ! ” then drawled 


138 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


‘^La-di-es! g-e-n-tle-m-e-n ! I forth Vvitli proclaim 
a merry truceless war ! ” 

Mr Bleecker lifted his voice high above the rest, 
** And I sound the tocsin of that war ! ” and began 
tooting through a napkin he rolled into a horn- 
shape : 

“ In heaven above, where all is love, 

There will be no more sorrow there ! ” 

All joined in the chorus, to the utter conster- 
nation of the decorous servants, who eyed each 
other with a comical distressed regard during the 
remainder of the dinner, as if the diners had taken 
leave of their senses, and that they, poor servants, 
were in imminent danger of becoming the victims 
of some eccentric act of violence caused by this 
sudden craze. 

However, the nonsensical fun performed its own 
good mission, effectually restoring the participants 
to the most reciprocal state of good humour, and 
creating a fresh starting-point for a jovial evening. 
Mrs Bleecker chuckled quietly to herself at the 
felicitous turn. 

As an adept in matchmaking,- she had temporarilj* 
experienced a premonitory symptom of dread lest 
some jarring irritability in Clarisse’s present excit- 
able frame of mind might make her fly at a tan- 
gent from Kichard Drysdale, and spoil the fine 
combination she had been planning for the young 
couple during the past three months. Her clever 
principle in making matrimonial combinations was 


SCORriON's STINGS.* 


139 


to avert, always avert, rather than allow matters of 
petty difference to culminate, and then try to 
smooth them over. “ Never, never, never have 
anything to smooth. It is bad polic}",” she 
averred. 

Happy, contented, busy little w^oman, partici- 
pating with so much soul in all the love affairs of 
the bevy of young folk she attracted round her ! 
She actually appeared to re-live her own girlhood 
through the courtship of each and every couple who 
came within the radius of her observation. 

Aunt Eachel Bleecker, as she was universally 
called, had saddled Cupid as her hobby. Her 
mission in life was to force the errant autocrat to 
send twain darts when he drew his bow. She 
spent no end of time setting up the companion 
targets within range of his sharp-shooting, clearing 
the field of interlopers, jealously warding off random 
shots. How she dwelt over the trivial confidences 
reposed in her by the girls, and coyly ingratiated 
herself into the secrets of the young men. How 
she cozened them ! Sitting down for a Ute-a-Ule 
in cosy retirement, it was her wont to draw them 
out of their reticence. 

“ Now, tell me all about it.” 

This most indefinite invitation was usually 
effectual. Most lovers merely needed a vague hint 
from this craftswoman that perhaps she knew some- 
thing intimate from words expressed to her by his 
Dulcinea, something indicative that his ardent love 
may not be distasteful. And so it was through 


140 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


this shadowy conviction that they opened their 
hearts to Aunt Rachel. Hence the little woman 
managed to keep en rapport with the progress of 
their love affairs, aiding when she could, in con- 
science, to bring the lovers together, chaperoning 
the girls when contingencies arose, championing 
the young men when they deserved it. She 
worked all her combinations according to a principle 
of her own. Concerning the idea that two people 
were true affinities, born for one another, she 
believed that the subtleness of propinquity was, 
as a rule, all things being equal, only necessary 
in the course of events to bring about a match 
between the right, and also, too frequently, the 
^vrong twain. With all her earnestness in this 
respect, she was very far from indulging in the 
most remote indelicate obtrusion of various people 
in the society of each other, but with infinite tact, 
when it ought to be, caused it just to happen. 

On several occasions she had befriended more 
than one pair of mistaken lovers by helping them 
to cut the formidable Gordian knot of an unsuitable 
engagement, that must have otherwise unavoidably 
resulted in an incompatible union. She had so 
adjusted the snare, that instead of a degrading 
quarrel, resulting in subsequent revilement of each 
other, the freed individuals ceased to be lovers by 
becoming admirable friends, frankly admitting that 
they had found out their mistake, through her 
help, in season to prevent unhappiness. 

“ False pride, and what terrible Mrs Grundy 


^CORPION^S STINGY. 


l4l 


might say causes more unhappy marriages, is at 
the root of more repugnant misalliances than aught 
else in all the world,” was her dictum. “A man 
or woman commits an inexorable blunder, to con- 
form deliberately to a plighted troth, when they 
have one, or the other, or both, discovered that 
they are mistaken. It is sheer madness ! It is a 
lie ! It is a crime ! It may prove the vilest 
degradation, and may result in a fierce tragedy or 
in a burning scandal,” she argued. 

Most unsparing was she in her contempt for the 
sickly, puerile sentimentality which affects some 
girls like a rage, making even a pure, delicate- 
minded girl recklessly avow love for either a worth- 
less lout, a brutal fellow, a sot, a loafer, or any 
renegade from a true order of manliness. She 
lectured such deluded ones soundly. Equally 
strenuous ^vas her rally-cry for the defence of a 
man against himself, who blindly sought to make 
an alliance with some namby-pamby girl, or sooth 
with some woman who was either his inferior or 
incompatible through various causes. She always 
scouted the idea that a man’s honour being at 
stake, prevented his breaking like bonds when he 
saw his folly. His honour required his honesty in 
the most vital step in life. Her Cupid, far from 
being an ill-conditioned tyrant, was noble and 
ennobling when properly enshrined. 

Soon after dinner, Kingston, Rodgers, and Bacon 
arrived in exuberant spirits. The incessant hum 


14 ^ 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


of voices sounded like the buzzing of a swarm of 
blue-bottle flies, now and again intermingling with 
spurts of contagious laughter ; a little lull, then 
the buzzing would augment. Presently Clarisse’s 
voice was distinctly heard above the others, and, 
as she continued to speak, although her conversation 
was addressed to Jasper Rodgers, the attention of 
the entire group was directed to her. 

“ I do still insist that the partial opinion of 
interested friends, Mr Rodgers, cannot be relied 
upon. I dare not believe myself possessed of 
unusual talent, or I should be a simpleton. No, 
no, it is a shame to puff me up in egotism, and 
try to turn my head by so much flattery ! ” 

Rodgers hung over the back of her chair wdth a 
suggestive familiarity, while she had turned half 
round and faced him, forced by his attitude to look 
upwards and over her shoulder. 

Believe me. Miss Corneille,” he said in a 'low^ 
tone, “ that of which I am trying to convince you 
is the honest, unprejudiced criticism of the very 
difficult Strackosh, as w’ell as of that eternal 
grumbler and everlasting fiiult- finder, the so-called 
Zolearan — Halburt Springer.” He looked at her 
curiously. Miss Corneille, I think, with these 
men in your train, you should heed as truth, not 
flattery, the universal mandate.” 

*‘A11 this, I confess, is most tempting, Mr 
Rodgers, but to adopt a profession necessarily 
entails all sorts of complications. I should have 
to find a manager. Above all, and firstly, I should 


SCORPION'S STINGS. 


143 


have to gain tlie sanction of my guardian ; then 
to fit myself properly, I must commence an arduous 
system of drill and study. It takes a lot of time, 
nerve, and adaptability in spite of the latent talent 
I may possess.” 

“ There is Mr Drysdale,” he said with caustic 
insinuation, perceiving that the others were 
listening ; “ I fancy you, if any person, could make 
terms with him to become your manager. Am I 
correct, Drysdale ? 

I can only answer that I should have to coach 
myself up on managerial business in order to do 
Miss Corndille justice, or presume that I was a 
likely applicant for such a post of honour.” While 
Dick spoke, Clarisse had scrutinisingly eyed him, 
and retorted the instant he finished. 

“ There ! Mr Rodgers, you hear even Mr Drys- 
dale politely sneers at me ! Come, be fair with 
me, Mr Drysdale.” She approached him, relieved 
to get away from Rodgers. “ What do you 
seriously think of my taking up the lyric stage 
as a profession ? Do you think that my vocal and 
histrionic gifts, if I have any, bespeak success ? 
Don’t hesitate to speak frankly. You cannot 
wound me half so much by blunt frankness as by 
misguiding me with false encouragements.” 

“ Honestly, Miss Corneille, I believe you would 
eventually have an unparalleled success, if you put 
your soul into your study ; but the drawback, in my 
estimation, is the life of a professional career; it 
would be so cruel and hard for one of your sen- 


144 


iieiibeut severance. 


sitive, refined nature. The vital question in my 
mind is whether it is worth the immolation of 
yourself.” 

Pray, don’t carp, Mr Drysdale,” stingingly 
interpolated Edith. “Don’t, pray don’t handi- 
cap Miss Corneille’s aim in life with imaginary 
detractions. Perhaps you regard all w’omen pro- 
fessionals as social pariahs ? ” 

“ Ah, Miss Longstreth, that is foreign either to 
my speech or thought. You fail to consider that 
I am rendering an opinion on parole of honour, and 
not flourishing an ignis fatuus to misguide our 
mutual friend.” 

“ I beg your pardon for my stupidity,” she stiffly 
said. 

“ You see that I impolitely refuse to be in- 
doctrinated with your woman’s rights convictions, 
but I can be gallant enough to say, whereas I 
cannot forswear my belief that a theatrical profession 
for some women robs those same women of their 
noblest estate, I modestly offer the sentiment as 
merely my personal view, and do not proffer it in a 
didactic spirit, and I may be foul of the truth. So, 
pray, exonerate me from all sweeping denunciation 
on your part as to my motives.” 

Bacon spoke up at this juncture. 

“ I declare, Drysdale, you’re too frank' What- 
ever has come over the spirit of your dreams, that 
you should back-water on professions for the fair 

Lv’ 

“ Nothing, and I specify the theatrical profession. 


SC0RP10^’*S STINGS. 


145 


I never had the same question put in the same 
direct manner as put by Miss Corneille, and I feel 
taxed to utter my candid opinion. In the past I 
have talked at random or in a cursory fashion on 
general principles with nothing at stake.” Jasper 
Rodgers glanced at him as he uttered the last 
sentence, and a vague sneer j)layed about his 
mouth. “However, I make the amende honor- 
able. I proffer my services to Miss Corneille to act 
in the capacity of manager, and use my most dili- 
gent efforts and influence to make her career — 
should she venture a social exodus — a brilliant 
success ! ” 

Edith fairly boiled ; Clarisse was flushed by 
Dick’s homage. 

“ Miss Corneille, allow me to write a libretto for 
an opera for you, and I’ll guarantee a sensation ! ” 
said Kingston with mock braggadocio. 

“ Foil ! fee ! fy ! fo ! fum ! How about the 
ogre of a guardian ; my young architect’s in air- 
castles ! ril guarantee, like Mr Kingston, a sensa- 
tion for Miss Corneille when he discovers all this 
plotting. Take my advice, and wait until you con- 
sult the powers that be,” jocosely said Mr Bleecker. 

“ As a lover of the present,” chimed in Mrs 
Bleecker, who dreaded the young people getting at 
counterpoints, “ I might suggest it would be renewed 
evidence of Miss Corneille’s greatest, best, undis- 
puted accomplishment, her amiability, to sing for 
us.” 

This strqke was parried skilfully at the right 
K 


146 


IIER^ERT SEVERAJsCE. 


moment, for there was a disturbing undercurrent 
moving, and every voice was raised to urge the 
much-discussed Clarisse to accede. 

Drj^sdale conducted her to the piano, as if it 
w’^as in his legitimate province, and an entitled 
light. 

After the music, Drysdale could not avoid 
evincing annoyance over Jasper Rodger’s disposition 
to monopolise Miss Corneille. He was simply 
furious when he overheard Jasper say in an under- 
tone : 

Pray, give me the privilege to pay you the first 
call after you are established in your own home ? ” 
At the same time, turning his back to the others, 
he leant over her, under a pretext of arranging a rose 
that he professed he thought was about to fall from 
\\QY bouquet de corsage^ VinditowQXiQdi her with almost 
indecent familiarity. 

Through the blushes caused by the annoyance, 
she smiled, spoke with delicious naivete so that all 
might hear, and forsook her chair to avoid him. 

“On the contrary, Mr Rodgers, I shall receive 
you all in the most formal en regie manner one 
week after I am settled in my ne\v home, and, to 
forfend against intruders, Mr Rodgers, I shall not 
give one of you my address until a few days before 
the event.” She walked deliberately awa}^ from 
him tow^ards the others, who were grouped in the 
middle of the room, addressing them in a provok- 
ingly laughing way. 

“ Just think what a sorry prank Mr Rodgers tried 


feCOiiPlON’s StlNGg. 


147 


to make me party to, by way of a joke upon you 
three gentlemen ! ” 

They all exclaimed with avidity ; 

“ What is it ? ” 

“ Do pray tell us ! ” 

“ Glad you are loyal to us ! 

What a rogue ! ” 

Meantime, Eodger’s face blazed crimson through 
rage, and with ill-concealed vexation he appealed 
to Mrs Bleecker. 

Madam, do you think it is quite fair to hand 
me over bodily in this way to my enemy for a 
trifling indiscretion ? They' are in the majority 
too. Intercede for me, pray. Do, madam.” He 
was not affecting this anxiety^ for he realised the 
transparency of his motive to at least Dick’s eyes. 

Mrs Bleecker shook her head admonishingly. . 
*'Ah, I fear the culprit deserves to stand the brunt 
of his heinous transgression. How^ever, 'perhaps 
Miss Corneille will be lenient^ The peculiar 
ciiiphasis given conveyed unmistakably to Olarisse, 
Mrs Bleecker’s wish that she should desist. 

“ You seem reasonably penitent, Mr Eodgers, 
and I am disposed to be lenient and spare you 
remorse, sleepless nights, nameless retribution. I’ll 
do unto you as I hope you will do unto me under 
similar circumstances.” All this she delivered with 
a grand flourish. In her gesticulations she caught 
in the lace garniture of her toilet a little horseshoe 
pendant from her bracelet, and in detaching it 
accidentally unlinked it from the bracelet. “ And, 


148 


ilEnfeERT SEVERANCE. 


as the princesses do in the Arabian Nights, 111 
give you this,” she held up the trinket, “ as a token 
of forgiveness,” and handed it to him. 

Dick looked as though he would like to collar him. 
Bacon and Kingston exclaimed : 

“ Forgive us, too, that we also may receive a 
token, and show our gratitude ! ” 

“ No, gentlemen, impossible. There is a differ- 
ence between a premeditated sin and a spontaneous 
one.” There was an arch girlishness about her that 
seemed to bewitch these men as she sprinkled 
them with this grain of Attic salt, feigning the air of 
a philosopher. Yet, wdthal, she was such a veritable 
enfant gdt4, it was preposterous in the extreme. 

Dick kept thinking what an impulsive child of 
nature she was to give Eodgers,of all men, a token. 
Bosh ! What did it matter to him ? The girl w^as 
nothing to him. He felt like cuffing himself for 
being such an idiot. Thoughts are errant torments, 
not to be silenced, even by a man of sense. 

Try as he might, after they left the Bleeckers as 
a party, all the way to the hotel Dick kept falling 
into a morose mood. His companions twitted him 
without mercy. He protested, and gave as an 
excuse : 

“ I’ve been fighting a racking headache all day, 
but it has worsted me. Won’t you come to my 
den and have a glass of wine and a smoke before 
going home ? ” 

With one accord they assented. Soon Dick 
recovered his affable manner. Certainly they 


scorpion’s stings. 


149 


presented, at this moment, the outward appear- 
ance of a most congenial set of chums, and they 
were so diametrically different in cardinal attri- 
butes, it was strange, all things considered, that 
they never had embroiled one another. Unani- 
mous love of art and music had always proved a 
strong bond of union, despite other differences. 

Finally, after a brief time had elapsed, when 
the enjoyment of the evening had been freely dis- 
cussed, Jasper Rodgers, who had quaffed several 
glasses of brandy, in a constrained fashion switched 
aside from the topic they then chatted about. 

I thought Miss Corneille was too hien elevee to 
make the stupid, rude blunder she was guilty' of 
to-night. I lay it all to want of tact, rather than 
lack of good breeding, for no one can convince me, 
after my observation this evening, that that young 
innocent is not at heart a consummate flirt, and 
knows something of the world.” 

Jasper ! ” Dick exclaimed in astonishment. 

“ That’s all right, Dick. I happen to know more 
about the pedigree and history of the fair demoiselle 
than either of you, and, well — blood will tell ! ” • 
The innuendo implied in his words and tone, 
caused his companions to stop smoking, and look 
at him with indignation. 

Dick rose, and with frigidity said : In my pre- 
sence I cannot suffer such remarks to be made 
about a lady of my acquaintance by any person.” 

Egad, Dick ! you’re laying yourself open to the 
charge of being her champion. Confess to us, are 


150 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


you tlie favoured one ?” Evidently the wine had 
gone to this young man’s head. 

‘‘ Jasper Rodgers, if you utter another word, hy 
heavens ! Til pitch you out of the window ! ” 

Dick'was livid through rage, his eyes were snap- 
ping menacingly. His two other friends, knowing 
him to be a victim of heart disease, felt the dread 
that this excitement vras exposing him to serious 
danger, stepped promptly between the two men. 

Henry Bacon took Jasper by the arm, insisting 
calmly that he must apologise. At the same time, 
Edward Kingston was striving to mollify Dick. 

Dick’s ire had imparted to him the appearance 
of height and strength, wdiereas, the maudlin state 
Jasper was gradually lapsing into, made him look 
insignificant, weak-kneed, and cowardly. He 
unsteadily stood facing Dick, stammering in a 
thick voice : 

“ Dick, old man, I say, I didn’t mean it. She’s 
a deuced nice girl. ...” 

‘‘ Silence ! ” yelled Dick, with clenched fists, “ or, 
by God ! I'll kill you ! ” 

• ‘‘ Dick, old man, forgive me. I apologise,” he 
persisted. 

“ Get out of my room ! Let this end our acquaint- 
ance. Drunk or sober, there are some things which 
no man should forget. One word — remember, 
Jasper Rodgers, dare you speak disrespectfully or 
insinuatingly about that lady, and you have me to 
oMswer. Now, go along. I can’t breathe the same 
air with such a despicable hound ! ” He threw the 


scorpion’s stings. 


151 


door wide open, and was in no humour to be 
opposed. 

The trio withdrew, the two who were clear- 
headed apprehending some violence on the part of 
Dick, who was enraged beyond all reason, to accom- 
pany Jasper, who was becoming less and less respon- 
sible, and less able to take care of himself. 

Once Bacon had decided to take charge of Jasper, 
and had driven away with him, Kingston resolved to 
return to Dick. He was actuated by the fear that 
Dick through his fury might have suddenly suc- 
cumbed to his well-known malady. If so, he would 
sadly require some friendly hand to minister to him. 

The door stood ajar. Without knocking, King- 
ston entered, and found Dick prone upon a lounge, 
eyes wide-open, lips moving as he muttered under 
his breath, his fists clenching and unclenching. 

“ Oh ! ” he exclaimed the instant he perceived 
Kingston, “ Ned, I am grateful to you for returning. 
I believe I should have died if I had no one to give 
me solace. Ned, I certainly should have killed 
that dastard if we had been alone ! ” 

“Drop that subject instantly, Dick,” interrupted 
Kingston, “ I came back to assuage, not to aggravate 
your disquietude.” Some one rapped vehemently. 
Kingston went to the door, and found the night- 
watchman. He peered into the room, through the 
opening, thrusting in at arm’s length a tray holding 
a pot of tea, cups, cream, and sugar. 

“ Mister Drysdale, sur, always takes tay when he’s 


ill; 


152 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


“ Thank you, Michael. By the way, I’ll remain 
here to-night, so keep a sharp look-out, my man, I 
may ring later.” 

Meantime, from sheer exhaustion, Dick had dozed, 
and was breathing in a laboured manner. Kingston, 
who was perfectly familiar with Dick’s quarters, 
proceeded to hunt up a pair of slippers and a smok- 
ing jacket. Then he took up his night-watch like 
a well-trained nurse. Every now and again, softly 
standing over the sleeper, he listened to his respira- 
tions with studied attention. 

There was not one sign to indicate restfulness 
in this sleep, and the irregular respiration alarmed 
Kingston as time wore on. Finally, after waiting 
to no purpose for an hour for some evidence of 
betterment in his friend’s condition, he rang. 
With precaution, he gently opened the door, step- 
ping without to intercept Michael. He asked if 
there was a doctor in the hotel. 

“No — oh, yes, sur, a Dr Covert, registered 
very late ; bin to a medical convention, and didn’t 
care to drive home so late.” 

“ Very well. Go to his room, and ask him to be 
good enough to come up here and look at a young 
gentleman suddenly taken ill. Tell him Mr 
Drysdale’s name as well as mine. Stop a min- 
ute.” He stepped back into the room, took a 
hasty glance at Dick, got a card, and WTote : 

“ Edward Kingston’s compliments. He desires Dr Covert 
to have the kindness to come at once to No. 7. Mr Drysdale 
is very ill.” 


scorpion’s stings. 


153 


“ There, Michael, give this to the doctor, and say 
to him not to take time to dress, but come at 
once.” 

Only a few minutes elapsed before the footfalls 
of two persons coming upstairs could be heard. 
Kingston walked out to meet the doctor. 

Dr Covert, I believe ? I am Mr Kingston, Mr 
Drysdale’s friend. You are most kind to come so 
promptly, doctor.” 

“ No, not at all, Mr Kingston. Strange coinci- 
dence, I am well acquainted with Drysdale. What’s 
the matter ? ” queried the doctor. 

Kingston explained in a cursory way about the 
unpleasant scene which he supposed the cause of 
Dick’s exhaustion, and why he felt undue alarm. 
The doctor said it would be extremely unwise to 
arouse the sufferer, but that he ought to have 
a look at him, which he cautiously did. 

Has he been dissipating much ? ” 

“ No ; he is a very moderate fellow in all that 
sort of thing, so far as I know, and we’ve been 
chums six years.” 

I see, I see, what’s the matter here. You said 
he had an access of anger, eh ? ” 

Kingston nodded his head. 

“ Was he struck ? ” 

No, doctor.” ' 

Did he fall ? ” 

That I do not know, for I vrent below stairs, 
and when I returned he was stretched out where 
he is now, but conscious. We chatted about two 


154 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


minutes. I was preparing to give Lim a cup of 
tea, and wdthout warning he fell into this stupor 
before I could pour it out, and there he has lain 
ever since as you see him, — that was almost two 
hours ago.” 

My advice is to let him remain until he wakes 
naturally, unless his breathing should become ster- 
torous, then arouse him instantly, and send for me, 
otherwise don’t let him know that I’ve been here, 
and in the morning I’ll send him my card as an 
old friend. Nature has collapsed from cardiac 
exhaustion, and is now' trying to repair the strain 
by a natural process. Should you need me, send 
down at once. Good-night.” 

Once alone, Kingston hunted about for an excit- 
ing book to read, to preclude the chance of his 
falling asleep. Finding Octave Feuillet’s ‘^La 
Veuve,” he disposed the lamp-screens so as to pro- 
tect Dick’s eyes, settled himself comfortably, and 
began to peruse this intensely exciting tragedy of 
love and marriage. He wanted to smoke, but 
considerately refrained, in order not to vitiate the 
atmosphere for his friend. He kept one eye on 
the patient and one on the book. In time his 
vigilance was rewarded by detecting Dick’s eyelids 
quiver, and his eyes open, and he stretched his 
arms over his head. 

“ Hallo, Ned ! what the dickens are you doing 
here ? Where’s my cup of tea ?” 

“ By George ! Dick, you are a caution ! How 
you have the colossal nerve to roar for tea when 


scorpion’s stings. 


155 


’tis daybreak, I can’t imagine.” All the time 
he was getting the teapot off the brazier, and pre- 
paring a cup as quickly as possible. 

“ Just sit up, lazy-bones, to drink it. I’ll keep 
you company.” 

Like old cronies these young fellows sat sipping 
their cups of tea, Dick protesting that he did not 
now feel, nor forsooth had he been ill. 

“ Can’t a chap take a needful snooze without 
being booked on the invalid corps as a victim of a 
malady ? Bah 1 ’tis my quick blood that plays me 
these tricks. How Jasper outraged me. I feel 
wild to think about it now. . . .” 

Look here, Dick, I’ll gag you if you can’t curb 
yourself. I want you to distinctly understand that 
that topic is tabooed for the present. Besides, you 
should show some compassion for me by promptly 
tiirning in, and letting me have a chance to do 
likewise, and get forty winks.” 

Kingston took one of Dick’s rooms, and they 
were both soon in bed and asleep. The sunlight 
streamed in, and wakened Kingston at an early 
hour. He found Dick sleeping all right, and stole 
away to his own quarters. 

At nine o’clock Dick was aroused from his 
heavy slumber by a messenger from his uncle, who 
requested him to breakfast with him. Amongst 
his morning letters was one from Clarisse, asking 
him to call on her the following day at three 
o’clock. 

He sent word to his uncle, that as he was rather 


156 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


seedy, be would prefer to go the next morning to 
breakfast, if convenient. Soon back came an answer 
to consider himself engaged without fail the next 
morning, but to just look in during the evening. 

To Clarisse’s note he replied, assuring her that 
it would afford him the greatest pleasure to call as 
requested. When he had indited this brief note to 
her he experienced a qualm of regret to consider 
that he had no right to shelter her from such a 
malicious wretch as Jasper ; he thought vaguely, 
perhaps it might some day be otherwise, so, at least, 
he hoped. 

Kingston had left a little note, urging Dick on 
no account to see Jasper alone, as they both had 
inordinate tempers, and no possible good could 
come out of it, winding up with : 

“To-morrow evening, don’t forget, we are to 
meet, as per engagement, at the Club.” 

The welcome Herbert Severance gave Dick that 
evening was salutary to him in his recent disorgan- 
ised state of mind. He thought, so at least he 
said to his nephew, that he looked remarkably well, 
“ rugged and stalwart as a man of steel.” 

Hour closed in upon hour, as they recounted 
incidents connected with their peregrinations. Dick 
said very little about the ladies. He was always 
disposed to be reticent respecting his society acts. 

“Dick, I have a big surprise in store for you 
during the week,” Herbert Severance announced at 
the finish of the evening, “but wild horses couldn’t 
drag it from me till the appointed time.” 


scorpion’s stings. 


157 


Are you going to marry, unde ? ” asked Dick, 
in surprise. 

“ Marry ! Bless your soul, decidedly not ! I 
think it much more likely you will shortly invite 
me to your wedding, or, like an obedient youth, ask 
my consent, eh, Dick ? ” 

Possibly, but for the moment, uncle, I do not 
think my moon has dipped in the honey. I’ll 
come in good season for breakfast. Is the hour 
nine thirty, as formerly?” And they parted like 
two boys — a pat on the back, an under-hand 
squeeze, never once suspecting that the next morn- 
ing would provoke the bad blood it did, when 
Herbert Severance waxed so wroth concerning 
Dick’s interest in nohody-knoius-who' s daughter” 


CHAPTER XL 


MUS bleecker’s coup d’etat. 


“Strange that a creature, rational and cast in human mould, 
should brutalize by choice his nature.” 



ARLY the next morning, Bacon and Kingston 


betook themselves to Jasper’s rooms, agree- 
ing between themselves to use all their personal 
influence to induce him to send back the trinket to 
Miss Corneille, and redress his wrong-doing by 
writing a note of apology to Dick. 

They found him in a sullen, dogged humour, the 
worse for drink, and not amenable to their argu- 
ments. He intimated that he was perfectly willing 
to await further developments to justify himself in 
his present inimical attitude. 

Without a doubt, before many weeks the 
immaculate lily will reveal carnivorous fangs ; for 
I tell you, boys, blood will tell. More than all that, 
I think Drysdale will alter his tone when he learns 
that she is the illegitimate daughter of Herbert 
Severance'* 

What ! ’’ they both ejaculated. 

** Only this. No one in New York, among the 
high-tone set the old man affects — none of the old- 


MRS BLEECKEr’s COUP D’^TAT. 


159 


timers know of his marriage, and Clarisse Corndille 
is his . . . ” 

“ There, there, what rubbish ! Don’t make 
yourself the laughing stock of society by circul- 
ating such a malevolent story,” spoke up King- 
ston, with disgust and impatience. 

“ Very well ; but, my dear Ned, you’ll have to 
dismount your high horse presently. I’ve made it 
my business to ask every person who would be 
likely to know, and they disclaim all knowledge of 
his marriage. It was a continental affair. The 
sly old dog ! held up to giddy youths as a pattern 
of excellence and honour ; a churchman in good 
repute and standing; not sanctimonious, you know, 
but exemplary, — just virtuous enough, — a practical 
everyday Christian; and all the rest of such non- 
sensical cant ! Egad ! I shall enjoy an expose of 
his hypocrisy and two-facedness.” He paused in his 
tirade to take a glass of absinthe. 

In the name of common decency, don’t rattle 
on in this way. How do you know aught to base 
your suspicion upon ? ” asked Bacon. 

Know ! ” shouted Jasper, derisively, as he 
rocked to and fro unsteadily upon his feet, 
“ know ! how do I know ? Ask me a hard ques- 
tion. I’ll tell you, by the girl’s own confession in 
London !” 

What ! you don’t mean it ? ” they excitedly 
exclaimed, glancing first at him to see if he had 
gone mad, as he stood defiant in his insolence, 
exultipg over their confusion, then at each other. 


160 


HERBERt SEVERANCE. 


Yes, gentlemen — as — your — understanding— 
seem — to — be — a — little — fuddled, I repeat, by — 
her — own — confession, — in London, — concerning — 
Count — De La Eue,” responded Jasper with studied 
exasperating distinctness, enunciating every word 
so slowly, one glided into the following. He was 
beginning to show the effects of the liquor. 

Jasper, you’re rendering yourself amenable 
to harsh criticism by your unwarrantable course.” 
Kingston spoke with ill-concealed contempt. 
Rising to his feet, “ I think you will have cause 
to bitterly regret your behaviour when you dis- 
cover, as you surely will, your former friends 
shunning you, and marking you as a man not 
to be trusted. . . .” 

“ Pooh ! pooh ! ” interjected Jasper, pouring out 
another glass of absinthe, which he gulped down, 
slobbering it over his chin and soiling his linen as 
he leant on his elbows, which were posed upon the 
mantel-shelf, oscillating from side to side, with an 
occasional sway forward as his knees bent under his 
weight. 

*‘Yes,” continued Kingston, “I reiterate, your 
former friends will mark you as a man to shun, as 
a man not to be trusted, as a man yielding to 
debasing impulses, as a man to keep at bay when 
one has sisters ! ” 

'' Pooh ! pooh ! Can’t you sugar the devil a bit 
for an old friend ? No ? Then I’ll take another 
drink. Here’s to my promised damnation ! ” 
Down he gulped another, and yet another glass of 


tos BLEECKER’s coup D^ilAt. 


161 


the intoxicating beverage. He made a sorry but 
l idiculous aspect as he tried to walk back and forth 
the length of the room. Staggering from side to 
side, lurching forward with such precipitation and 
indirection as to almost lose his balance, he was 
indeed a limp object of pity. Lack of co-ordination 
in this instance was undeniable drunkenness. 

Hoping against hope, Kingston in a more suasive 
tone depicted what was imminent. 

'' It will surely befall you, Jasper, therefore as a 
disinterested friend I entreat you for your own sake, 
for the maintenance of your self-respect and dignity, 
to do the straight, manly thing, and obviate the 
chagrin you will otherwise experience.” 

At this juncture Jasper blurted out between hic- 
coughs : 

“ Humph ! not I. Take me for a turncoat ? 

I’ll be d d if I do ! ” Seeing that Kingston 

had concluded in disgust and was about to depart, 
he moved towards him as best he could, showing his 
teeth, and looking like a jackal, sneered, See here, 
Kingston, I’ll wager that the girl voluntarily com- 
promises herself with me in less than a w^eek if you 
let matters take their own course. Meantime, she 
will completely hoodwink you and Drysdale and all 
the world till the proofs are beyond denial, and 
obvious to the blindest. What do you say ?” 
Down went another glass of absinthe. 

With insufferable contempt Kingston glanced at 
Bacon. They tacitly concluded to leave, convinced 
that Jasper was incorrigible, and inclining to vitu- 
L 


162 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


peration. All opposition or further argument would 
now only incite him to design some new order of 
devilment to entangle the unwary girl. 

Both men felt their blood tingle with the irresist- 
ible desire to cowhide this villain who had suddenly 
revealed the propensities of a mean, depraved nature, 
but checked themselves only because he was mad- 
dened through drink, hence not responsible. No 
sooner had they reached the door than Jasper threw 
down with a slap upon the table a note, saying, 
with hateful irony in his thick voice : 

In evidence, read that ! The lady, — sweet 
little Philomela, — even now smiles upon me. You 
see, boys, I have her for a correspondent.” He 
waved triumphantly the little note, fluttering like a 
dove in the clutch of a vulture. '‘But read it, if 
you want to see how a leopard changes its spots. 
Look ! the signature is a dainty little pointed 
Italian handwriting — perfumed paper,” — he smelt 
it, — " all in good form, eh ? ” Again he flaunted 
the note under their very eyes. Neither of the 
exasperated men deigned to look at it. This last 
act incensed them to an intense pitch ; now they 
could scarcely restrain themselves from assaulting 
him. 

Instantly Bacon clutched the note, snatching it 
out of Jasper s hands, tore it into a hundred frag- 
ments, flung it out of the window, to go swirling 
on the wind into space — into eternity, then he 
turned furiously upon the miscreant. 

" There ! sir. Anyone who so far forgets him- 


MRS BLEECKEr’s COUP d’^TAT. 


163 


self to boast of his conquests, deserves far rougher 
treatment, be he drunk or sober, from the hands of 
an}^ man, disinterested or otherwise, with the 
instincts of a gentleman ! Don’t flatter yourself, 
we are sparing you. We have an unmitigated 
contempt for you, and leave you with a whole skin, 
for we consider you an ignominious wretch, un- 
worth}^ either to associate with or measure swords 
with.” Bacon had risen to the occasion with so 
much vehemence and spirit, Jasper was actually 
speechless. He vaguely heard Kingston say as they 
closed the door after them : — 

“ By Jove ! Harry, that was a settler, and 
I endorse every wnrd.” 

Once outside, they cudgeled their brains to 
determine what course to pursue. Finally a 
happy thought struck Bacon. 

Let us go to the clever diplomat, Mrs Bleecker, 
tell her the cardinal points of this shameful affair, 
and follow her advice.” Kingston acquiesced. 

Walking along in silence to carry out their last 
resolve, they both involuntarily thought how shock- 
ing!}^ imprudent of Miss Corneille, certainly she was 
sadly in need of a guardian. What could have 
tempted her to write to Jasper. Bacon mentally 
patted himself on his back for his coup in destroying 
the “ evidence'^ No one was likely to accredit aught 
Jasper might now say on that score. His demeanour 
would put him in universal disfavour, he would 
doubtless be hooted out of respectable society. 
Bight enough. A man with such degenerate 


164 


HERBERT SEVER ANX‘E. 


proclivities surely forfeited foothold in every re- 
spectable rank of life. Nothing should or could 
excuse him for his intolerable brutality, for his 
maliciousness, although he was drunk. 

How singular that never until the present epi- 
sode had Jasper Rodgers betrayed himself in this 
despicable light, to the men he had fraternised with 
for so many years under so many diverse circum- 
stances. Was it a case of in vino veritas ? 
Thrown off guard through his inebriation, had he 
unwittingly revealed that dual nature which a sane 
man keeps hidden and subdued ? 

In fairness to him, let it be recorded that he had 
ever been esteemed highly by his acquaintances and 
convives for his many admirable traits of character, 
and he had been esteemed for the man they found 
him to be. He had his idiosyncrasies, but, then, 
who has not ? Such are accounted in the reckon- 
ing of human character merely as individualities. 
He had never before been known to disparage any 
person, certainly never a woman. 

Thinking in this wise, Kingston suddenly said, 
as though arriving at a solution : Harry, it’s a 
case of moral rabies ! ” 

“ Yes, Ned, I agree with you ; but Pasteur 
can’t cure him, and he’ll never be properly 
cauterised this side of Hades,” added Harry. 

Mrs Bleecker was soon apprised by Bacon and 
Kingston of the insulting, outrageous attitude 
which Rodgers had assumed towards her guest, 


MRS BLEECKER’s COUP TAT. 


165 


Miss Corneille. Without desiring to extenuate 
his acts, they informed her that he was under 
the influence of his cups, and that they could 
not prevail upon him to redress his shameless 
behaviour. He had gone so far as to boast of 
receiving a note from Miss Corneille, which he 
had displayed, but which they had destroyed 
without scruples, believing, as they did, that in 
his perverse, audacious frame of vindictiveness, 
he was quite capable of making any assertion, or 
of distorting the smallest, most insignificant thing 
to fortify himself in his unwarrantable course. 

“ So 3mu destroyed the letter ? Good, good ! ” 
approvingly said Mrs Bleecker. Nothing could 
have been better or wiser.” She paused, and don- 
ning her thinking cap, appeared cautiously to search 
her brain for ways and means to remedy the 
mischief, and quietly obviate a scandal without 
creating a useless hubbub. Presently she arrived 
at a conclusion. 

“ My good friends, there are sometimes con- 
flicting circumstances which it is best, right or 
wrong, to consign to an unbreakable silence, 
and dismiss without talk or commotion. I fear 
we are dealing with just this sort of a case, mainly 
because the conflict is unequal, falling as it does 
between a man of the world, who is a reckless 
brute when in liquor, and a young unsophisticated 
girl.” She paused an instant, then with decision, 
“ I will call upon Mr Rodgers, and see what I can 
achieve.’* 


166 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


Both men evinced astonishment, and were on 
the verge of protesting. 

You may rest content, my friends,” she sa'd, 
witnessing their dismay, “ that I shall be the 
very pink of discretion, and a model of diplomacy. 
I must aver I should not like to transmit this 
matter to Miss Corneille’s guardian, as it has 
occurred under my roof.” 

She cut short the interview there and then, 
enquired for Mr Rodgers’ address, excused herself 
for all informality, as she meant to give her instant 
attention to the affair before Mr Rodgers might 
sally forth from his studio. 

With unreserved expressions of gratitude, they 
thanked lier for her prompt and magnanimous 
enlistment in the affair. They departed much 
easier in their minds, feeling whatever she did 
would be well and sagaciously done. 

Within half-an-hour she was driven up to JuvSper 
Rodgers’ domicile, and gained prompt admission 
after her card had been presented. Scarcely had 
she crossed the threshold of the front door, when 
Jasper, unsteady of gait, but most ridiculously 
obsequious in his demonstration of politeness, 
traversed the hall to meet her. All tbe while he 
advanced, he scrutinised her in a suspicious fashion. 
Bracing up, he saluted her with supercilious polite- 
ness, and led her to his studio. 

“ What an unexpected honour to receive a call 
from you, Mrs Bleecker ! To what am I so deeply 
indebted ? Is Mrs Bleecker well ? ” He seemed 
suddenly sobered. 


MRS BLEECKER’s COUP d’^TAT. 


1G7 


Oh, yes, indeed, perfectly well, Mr Eodgers. 
I fear you will wish I had not favoured you with 
a call when I explain my errand, eh ? ” Jasper 
glanced at her, disconcerted, but cautiously sought 
to veil his surprise, and handed her to a chair. 

Mrs Bleecker, permit me to assure you, errand 
or no errand, you are most welcome.” 

The little lady perched her head coyly on one 
side, looking blandly up into his face. 

“ Wait a bit, Mr Rodgers ; I am an eleemosy- 
nary deputy, begging funds for a certain hospital of 
which you have already heard.” He was completely 
thrown off the scent. She began to draw from out 
of her hand -satchel a book containing a long list of 

o o 

donors, and significantly held it towards him. “Now 
you wish me in Halifax, or find your purse-strings 
in a Gordian knot ? ” plied the almost sinner, with 
incomparable artful artlessness. 

“My dear Mrs Bleecker, pray do not attribute to 
me miserly traits until I have a chance of refusing. 
Let me know exactly what you expect me to do ? ” 
Thus speaking, he had, in a listless, maudlin ir,an- 
ner, stroked her mantle from the shoulder to the 
wrist, with a certain air of familiarity native to 
him in the presence of women. 

Mrs Bleecker was inwardly cringing, boiling over 
with indignation at this insufferable liberty ; but 
her mission was uppermost in her thoughts, she 
must not be over finical. She drew^ away a trifle 
by leaning back in her chair, and with a merry 
little laugh replied to him. 


168 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


“ Well ! Mr Rodgers, you are certainly a perfectly 
lovely venturer to put to me such a dangerous 
question. I am noted the town over as being an 
avaricious cormorant wherein my pet charities are 
concerned. My motto is audace, audace, toujours 
V audace. . . . May I tax your generosity for the 
same sum as — ” she began to finger over the leaves 
of her memorandum book, scanning up and down 
the long list of names and the amounts opposite 
each name. 

Never mind,” he brusquely said, what Tom, 
Dick, or Harry gave. I’ll give twenty dollars cash, 
and ” — he surveyed the well-covered walls of his 
studio — the two panel pictures either side of that 
window, if you want them.” 

“ Mr Rodgers ! you are an angel of goodness to 
be so liberal. Will you have the kindness to call 
the coachman to carry my booty to my carriage % ” 
She could not avoid this innate avariciousness and 
bird-in-the-hand principle when bent on charity. 
“You can either give me the money, or send a 
cheque to the secretary.” 

“ Bother the secretary ! My transaction is with 
you.” He pulled out his wallet and handed her 
twenty dollars, moved at once towards the wall, 
unhung the pictures, and carried them himself to 
her carriage. 

Meantime Mrs Bleecker kept saying to herself, 
“ How shall I do it ? How shall I do it ? ” evidently 
perplexed. When Jasper returned, she indulged 
in exaggerated terms of admiration and gratefulness 


MRS RLEECKER’s COUP D’eTAT. 


169 


for his sympathetic responsiveness. She quite 
captivated Jasper. Her words of praise were ac- 
centuated by the remembrance of his recent inter- 
view with his two men friends. 

He seated himself close beside her, and again 
stroked her mantle, and leered into her face. 

“ My dear Mrs Bleecker, I am sure that there 
is nothing in my power that I would not do gladly 
to promote your unselfish philanthropic schemes.” 
All the time he hung over her with suggestive im- 
pudence, smirked and eyed her. 

Ah, Mr Rodgers ! ” she sighed, to cover up her 
internal revolt, there was a reservation in that 
gallant offer that quite vexes me 1 ” She thought 
now to tack for shore. “ Why did yon qualify ? 
Why not say for me, not for my schemes ? 
Alas, alas ! this all comes from growing old.” 
Jasper no longer stroked her mantle, but grasped 
her arm, and quietly slipped his other hand from 
the top of the chair-back till it rested upon her 
shoulder. She continued, although bubbling through 
suppressed indignation, I have always advanced the 
doctrine that after forty a woman should be killed, 
for the world was no longer her place. Although 
life is dear to me, I adhere to the doctrine ! ” She 
turned as if uncomfortable, and looked at his hand. 

Stuff and nonsense ! ” exclaimed Jasper, taking 
the little ladys hand. “ Mrs Bleecker, I, for one, 
avow on solemn oath, that all women are silly, 
simpering, capricious bundles of affectation until 
they are forty or past, and not worth the quest of 


170 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


any man of either taste or sense.” He became in- 
stinctively conscious of his soiled linen and unneat 
attire, suffered a moment’s embarrassment whilst 
he stuffed his pocket-handkerchief under his waist- 
coat across his shirt-front, all the time talking. “ I’ll 
reiterate, my dear lady, there’s nothing in my power 
I’ll not do to gain ^our favour or your approval, or 
to promote your happiness ! ” Again he stroked 
her mantle ; she fairly suffocated through rage, but 
actuated by politic tolerance, she smiled com- 
placently at him as ho continued, '' Put me on my 
mettle, and test this most solemn pledge ! ” He 
had veritably felt an undue encouragement in the 
exhilarating little lady’s praise and smiles, and found 
her most charming. She vigorously shook the fore- 
finger of the hand she was eager to disengage from 
his obnoxious caresses, uttering with feigned, but 
none the less effective incredulity : 

“Tut, tut, young man, your words are the 
merest bubbles which would break and dissolve into 
nothingness the moment light is thrown upon 
them.” 

“Well, I asseverate, my dear Mrs Bleecker, it is 
true; try me,” hotly urged Jasper, evincing injured 
pride. 

“ Now, my dear friend, I know as well as I do 
my A B C’s, that if you or any young man be 
smitten with or even interested in a young girl, 
neither you nor he would exchange the most trifling 
memento she might have bestowed upon either of 
you, to win my or any other old lady’s greatest 


MRS BLEECKER’s COUP d’^TAT. 171 

approbation. Don’t contradict me, pray don’t, Mr 
Rodgers, for I’m stubborn in my opinion, and I can 
prove it also,” insinuated Mrs Bleecker. He had 
essayed two or three times to interrupt her, but she 
had held her ground till the finish, when he again 
protested. 

"‘Try me, Mrs Bleecker, try me, and then 
judge.” 

This was her opportune time to drive home the 
entering wedge. 

o o 

“ Well, I will. Let me see, let me see. What 
shall it be? . . . You observe, Mr Rodgers, that 
you cover me with confusion, for I know so few of 
your lady friends, I can hardly test your avowal, 
not even in a paltry manner.” Then, as if suddenly 
recollecting : “ Oh ! I had forgotten. I’ll have the 
little horse-shoe that Miss Corneille gave you ! ” 
and she laughed to feign her delight in possibly 
cornering him, but in truth to cover her doubt. 

Jasper fumbled in his waistcoat pockets, drew 
out the little trinket, and tossed it disdainfully into 
Mrs Bleecker s lap. 

“ Pooh ! that is so valueless, your test has not 
cost me the shadow of a sacrifice.” Then with 
sarcasm in his tone : “ Long since the namby- 
pamby giver escaped my thoughts. Ask me, 
rather, for my allowance of cigars for one week, 
if you aim to hit my heart ; but that thing has no 
value.” 

“ I am sorry I didn’t make a request that might 
have cost you a sacrifice.” She lost no time in 


172 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


placiug the, to her 2)r€Gious, horse-shoe safely into 
her satchel. ‘‘ However, the willingness with 
which you acceded, T):iakes me free to aver that 
I am half-convinced that you aie prepared to 
comply with the necessary abnegation my most 
severe test of friendship might call for. I am 
sincerely gratified.” She began to rustle her dress, 
and prepare for departure. How the time flies, 
and I have only scored two victims on the aJtar of 
charity to-day. Mr Kodgers, wdll you be startled 
if I promise to pay you another visit later on, if I 
have a deficit to make up for my hospital fund 

Certainly not. You know we poor beggars of 
painters have not a plethora of filthy lucre as 
a rule, but we’re to a man a soft-hearted and open- 
handed lot of chaps, ready to do to the top of our 
bent.” 

“ I believe you, and I shall come with less fear 
and trembling when I play mendicant again. 
Thanks, a thousand times. Good afcernoon, Mr 
Rodgers.” 

With a light heart and a feeling of triumph, the 
artful little diplomat tripped to her carriage, 
conscious that she had most adroitly managed 
the difficult recreant, without having provoked a 
single iota of ill-nature, nor in any manner had 
she revealed the true purport of her philanthropic 
exploit. 

This was her way of going around an obstacle of 
social bramble-bushes without getting a scratch or 
tear, or without giving a single cut or slash. She 


knS BLEECKEPt^S COUP o’^TA'i'. ITS 

took herself a whit to task for having used her pet 
charity as a scapegoat. “ But, after all,” she 
argued to herself, “the hospital was ever in need 
of funds.” She had not concocted a mere figment, 
and then, it was her hounden duty to collect funds 
whenever the venture promised to be successful. 
So this shadow of a black mark was readily dissi- 
j)ated, and her conscience sponged fair and clean by 
the justification with which she found the exigency 
fraught. 

She sent at once a duplicate telegram to Bacon 
and Kingston. 

“ Mission successful beyond expectation. Call 
for details. Answer when. R. Bleecker.” 


CHAPTER XII. 


DICK ATTACKED. 

“ Who committed 

To such a viper his most sacred trust 
Of secrecy.” 

T3ICHARD DRYSDALE felt sore and distraught 
after the turbulent and unexpected scene 
which occurred during and after the breakfast at 
his uncle’s house. His temper had been severely 
taxed by Herbert Severance’s hostile attitude, 
and cruel flings at singers, and avowed effort to 
Sflare him from ruin. He likewise felt perplexed 
by the involved mystery of it all ; however, he 
must wait further develoj3ments. Now he must 
hasten directly to Mrs Bleecker’s to meet his en- 
gagement made by note with Clarisse. Yes, “the 
nobody-knows-who’s daughter ” his uncle had railed 
against, although an hour late he hoped, as he 
had told his uncle, to placate the lady. 

Clarisse received him most cordially, apologising 
for having taken the liberty of sending for him. 
He assured her there was no reason whatever for 
considering herself under obligations to him for an 
act, which afforded him great pleasure to comply with. 


l)ICtt ATTACttED. 


175 


She was in a peculiar state of excitement, and 
branched out in an incoherent manner. 

Mrs Bleecker is not at home, Mr Drysdale, 
and if you will not deem me very indiscreet I should 
like to have you consider this interview as con- 
fidential.” 

“ That shall be as you desire, Miss Corneille. 
But, as a sincere friend, truly concerned in your 
welfare, allow me to suggest, according to my judg- 
ment, you should take Miss Longstreth into our 
confidence,” said Dick, regarding Clarisse with a 
degree of confusion and agitation. 

“ Mr Drysdale,” disregarding his request, she 
began, I may as well tell you at once, Edith 
thinks that Mr Rodgers was very rude and un- 
gentlemanly in his deportment towards me the 
other evening. She also deems my foolishness in 
giving him the liorse-shoe trinket very short-sighted, 
and likely to be taken as an encouragement by 
him. I am in such distress, so mortified, through 
my unseeming conduct. I sent for you to advise 
me what I must do to redeem myself.” She could 
not conceal lier present emotion, yet felt she must 
explain. Mr Drysdale, I have been so drawn to 
you since the first moment I met you, I feel je -ne 
sais quoi, that you can understand me, and will 
do your utmost to advise me.” Her ingenuousness 
had ecome pathetic. 

Dick could not answer. For once his judgment 
iailed him. He tossed about on an incoming sea 
of passionate love for this trustful girl, who had 


iinilBEIlf SEVKBANCfi. 


ife 


so won him in her complete faith in him, at a time 
when she called into question the manliness of 
another, at a time when he knew she was in 
imminent peril of a blackguard. Involuntarily, he 
reached out towards her, grasped her hand, and 
pressed it gently, all the while looking earnestly 
into her eyes. 

There was an eloquence in their mutual dumb 
confession that both felt thrilling their innermost 
beings, surpassing the power of mortal language. 
The moment was more than trying, indeed charged 
with a certain danger to the man who had resolved 
so often, and with veritable solemnity to himself, 
that he should avoid giving expression to his senti- 
ments to Clarisse, until he was known to her 
guardian. Now, he felt it absolutely necessary 
to insist upon Miss Longstreth’s presence. It was 
his only safeguard. 

Clarisse v/as trembling under the sweep of 
destiny. Unfortunately Dick’s silence was mis- 
construed by her. She concluded that he was 
deprecating her, whereas, he w^as lost in the con- 
centration of his thoughts as he strove to divine a 
safe way for her out of an untoward dilemma. 

“ Then jmu, too, condemn me ? ” the poor deluded 
girl tremulously asked after a painful pause. 

‘‘No, most assuredly not. My hesitation is 
due alone to my studied caution, as to the wisest 
and most satisfactory course to pursue in your 
behalf. Miss Corneille.” He spoke honestly from 
the depths of his soul, but not for the reason she 


bici^ attack cb. 


1:7 


feared. Pardon me, but have you any objection 
to Miss Longstreth’s presence during our con- 
versation ? ” 

“ Oh, no ; I only wish you could persuade her 
to come. A moment before your arrival she 
refused me point blank, offering as her reason that 
it might appear to you, under the circumstances, 
that you were doubted, and subjected to a system 
of espionage. You know, Mr Drysdale, you have 
expressed yourself very strongly relative to 
American and European etiquette.” 

“ Do not misjudge me. Miss Corne'ille. My 
principal reason in desiring Miss Longstreth 
to bo a party to our conversation, is because, 
she is possessed of remaikabl}'^ clear powers 
of discernment, and, as a woman, may have in- 
tuitive wisdom that would elude a man’s reason- 
ing. Moreover, she has had considerable experi- 
ence. She is your friend, your companion. Miss 
Corndille, in fine, she must come ; I assure you, it 
is wise. There are reasons I may not explain, but 
it is best.” 

The arguments advanced by Dick impressed 
Clarisse. She excused herself, and left the room 
to fetch Edith. 

During her temporary absence, Dick felt as if 
a cold steel had entered his heart’s core. He 
suffered keenly, because he had no recognised 
right to protect this young guileless girl, who 
might so easily become the prey of almost any 
social man-marauder who might chance to gain 


tiERBERT severance. 


in 

her confidence. He mentally cursed the social 
slavery holding him in abeyance. 

A frou-frou signalised the approach of the young 
ladies. Dick advanced to meet them as they 
entered arm-in-arm. 

“ Miss Longstreth, permit me to thank you for 
your compliance to my express wish. Now, let us 
three try to sift this unpleasantness to the bottom 
without unnecessary detail. Have you any cogent 
personal, or other reason for denouncing and mis- 
trusting Mr Eodgers ? ” 

“ Such a personal question strikes me as a trifle 
indiscreet, Mr Drysdale. Nevertheless, I will con- 
fess that the man’s 'personnel is most repugnant to 
me, and his behaviour scarcely can be deemed be- 
coming a refined gentleman. Let this all go for 
what it's worth. I am convinced, after careful 
deliberation, that Clarisse has but one proper course 
to pursue, namely, send for her guardian, and 
commit the matter to him. I comprehend it is 
excessively trying for her to begin her acquaint- 
ance with her guardian by asking him the first 
thing to adjust a social difficult3^ The false educa- 
tion of women, together with the bias of the social 
fabric, makes it the only admissible way out of 
similar snarls with propriety, unless the woman 
has the right to call upon another. So-called 
disinterested men friends, befriending a woman, are 
apt to compromise her, despite the absolute purity 
of their intentions.” 

At her last remark Dick curiously eyed her. The 


blcit ATtACliEb. 


1?9 


tlioiiglit flashed through his mind, perhaps she in- 
tended to probe his feelings ; was she measuring his 
sincerity by trying to provoke him to some avowal ? 

“ I quite agree with you, Miss Longstreth, and 
yet we must have proper consideration for Miss 
Corneille, who does not likely know what view her 
guardian may take of her griev^ance, and may ex- 
pose hersell' to needless censure. Besides, I’m 
inclined to believe that we are exaggerating the 
matter. Personal dignity is most laudable, but 
sometimes the magnifying power of too much atten- 
tion to a trifle to maintoin its integrity, does no end 
of mischief by giving an uncalled-for notoriety any 
fastidious lady would naturally shrink from, had she 
conjectured it possible before resenting even a serious 
affront. So at least I think.” Perceiving that 
Edith impatiently patted the floor with her foot, 
and that her lips gradually curled with scorn as he 
spoke, Pray, do not allow me to antagonise you. 
Miss Longstreth, for your judgment is needed by 
your friend. I do not shirk taking immediate 
action personally. I will cowhide the fellow, but you 
with your sound sense of the world have already 
affirmed that I am prohibited from coming to the 
fore in so delicate an aflair.” 

Edith smiled, just with a shade of disdain and 
incredulity in her expression, while Claiisse gazed 
wistfully at one, then at the other, not quite sure 
what turn either might take, yet nursing the hope 
for a decision that should effectually relieve her of 
responsibility. 


1:6 


tlEnl^ERT SEVEKANX’fi. 


As no one spoke, Dick resumed : 

“ I can but think that Mrs Bleecker, with her 
inirenious tact, can arransje this affair in a 
thorouglily judicious and satisfactory method. 
She could write a note to Mr Rodgers,” 
— Clarisse winced, turning scarlet, — embodying 
her disapproval of the interchange of even trif- 
ling mementoes between casual acquaintances, and 
request him to do her the kindness to return the 
trinket; or something of similar import. That 
would straighten out the unpleasantness without 
commotion, or without too many dabbling in it. 
Afterwards, Miss Corneille can completely ignore 
the culprit.” 

Clarisse clapped her hands, glad to have the 
bugbear overcome without the dreaded mortifica- 
tion of cairying her complaint to her guardian. 
Edith w^as not half pleased. Her own moral 
courage betrayed her too frequently into a defiant, 
out-and out demand for her rights, and an insist- 
ance that any short-comer should have meted out 
an unstinted, if deserved, portion of chastisement, 
let the consequences be what they might. 

Finally Dick’s plan was acquiesced in, and the 
two girls were to be left the task of engineering it 
through to the end, admonished by Dick. 

“ It is not in the least necessary to mention to 
Mrs Bleecker my action or suggestion, she may not 
approve of my intermeddling.” 

Edith darted a glance of fury at Dick. He never 
winced. He answered the thought thus implied 
indirectly to her. 


DICK ATTACKED. 


181 


“ Miss Longstreth will doubtless recognise the 
wisdcm of iny request when she considers it 
calmly.” 

“ BouMess, if so says Mr Drysdale, ” she retorted 
shai’ply. 

Edith, don’t spar with Mr Drysdale,’^ urged 
Cla,risse. She hesitated an instant ; Dick was 
about to leave. '"Mr Drj^sdale, I wrote, to Mr 
Kodgers ...” 

‘‘ Good gracious, Miss Corneille ! ” 

Clarisse ! have you taken leave of your 
senses ? ” exclaimed Edith and Dick simul- 
taneously. 

“Yes, I wrote to ]\lr Rodgers this morning, 
requesting the return of my trinket, ” she timor- 
ously answered. 

Dick v/as more than astounded — saw the com- 
plication — the danger — at once. 

“ Miss Corneille, lose not one moment in con- 
ferring with Mrs Bleecker. I assure you, you are 
in jeopard}^ Do not delay. I must bid you 
good afternoon.” 

Dick hastened to leave the premises, resolved to 
seek his friends Bacon and Kingston at the club. 
He tried to impress upon them the necessity that 
Rodgers should be made to see in some way that, 
if only for his OAvn sake, he must forestall Mrs 
Bleeckcr’s possible demand, by writing a polite note 
to her, assuring her that from Miss Corndille’s note, 
which he must enclose, that he concluded the 
trinket possessed some intrinsic value to Miss 


182 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


Corneille, hence he returned it witli his host com- 
pliments, knowing she had bestowed it upon him 
in jest. 

“ If he don’t,” Dick said, he’s a churl, and will 
get himself into mcmvais odeiir with a coterie, that 
it would cut his insuperable vanity to be out with. 
If he don’t adopt this course. Miss Corneille’s 
guardian will eventually take the matter in hand.” 

Both Kingston and Bacon stated that Rodgers 
was in a state of ugliness not amenable to persua- 
sion, the effect of excessive drinking, combined 
with the sting he felt respecting his own behaviour, 
and Dick’s open repudiation of him. For some 
unknown reason, neither of the men intima^ted 
aught concerning their session with Rodgers, or 
their subsequent interview with Mrs Bleecker. 
They had not at this time received Mrs Bleecker’s 
telegram. They incidentally suggested that Rod- 
gers was liable to come into the club at any moment, 
as this was their regular evening to dine together, 
in consonance with a custom of years’ .standing. 
Possibly Dick might conciliate him, for the sake 
of the lady. He resented the idea with contempt. 

Bacon urged again, ‘'For the lady, Dick, surely 
you will try to swallow your anger for her sake.” 

“ It will cost a tremendous struggle to keep 
from throttling him, but, boys. I’ll do my best,” 
consented Dick. “ By- th e-bye, I have an impor- 
tant engagement at ten or thereabouts, so I hope 
you can cut the dinner short, and not detain me 
beyond that hour.” 


DICK ATTACKED. 


183 


They assured him that he should leave at the 
tap of the drum.” Exchanging friendly words 
with various members of the club, time vanished, 
and the dinner was nigh a conclusion, when 
Rodgers made his appearance in a sorry plight 
through drink, but exquisitely dressed. 

He bowled directly towards the group of his old 
chums, snapped his gloves upon the table, ordered 
the waiter in a peremptory tone to pull back 
his chair, and lurched into it seemingly as spine- 
less as a jelly fish. His pitiable constrained polite- 
ness, his tell-tale inane assumption to appear at 
ease, his ridiculous nonchalance, excited in his 
comrades and others a feeling of pity in spite of 
their contempt. 

Turning deliberately to Dick, he addressed his 
first pleasantry : 

“ Dickie, old man, have you got off your high- 
horse ? ” 

Dick frowned, clenched his teeth, shoved his 
chair back from the table, when he was checked 
by Kingston. 

Careful, Dick,” he whispered, don’t make a 
scene, bear wdth him, he’s drunk.” 

Rodgers, receiving no response, reiterated in a 
voice so loud that every person in the immediate 
vicinity heard, and turned around smiling to see 
what was in the wind : 

“ Dickie, old man ! I say, have you got off your 
high-horse, eh, old man ? ” 

Bacon tried to divert his attention. 


184 


H E RBERT SEVERANCE. 


“ By-the-bye, Jasper, I made a rare find to-day.” 
He turned his boozy eyes upon the speaker. “ I 
unearthed a lot of flat Japanese fish-skin fans, 
yellow, red, and green, just the dandiest things 
for decoration. . . .” 

“ I don’t care a d about your fans, Harry ! 

To-night I’m thinking of wine and women ! ” 

Dick rose from the table without condescending 
to look at Jasper. He was livid through rage, 
his pupils dilating and contracting as his eyes stared 
wide-open. He addressed himself to his two 
friends : 

“ Let’s retire to a private room for our coffee 
and smoke,” and he pushed out ahead of the 
part 3 % to hear a low sardonic laugh, and some 
one whisper : 

“ Some woman scrape ! By J ove, Drysdale’s hot 1” 

Dick cast a lowering look over his shoulder, 
seeing which, Kingston hurried to gain Dick’s 
side before the others were within ear-shot. 

Have a care, Dick, have a care. Jasper is 
not accountable.” Dick shook him off with decided 
resentment. Don't, for God's sake, make a scene. 
Think of the scandal to the lady — think, Dick, 
think, don't le rash," he implored under his 
breath. 

After this group of four entered the private 
coffee-room, the door was closed with precaution. 
Jasper, to all appearance suddenly sobered up a 
bit, went straight up to Dick, and, in an entirely 
changed manner, addressed him. 


DICK ATTACKED. 


185 


“ Look here, Drysdale, if that girl was all right 
I should feel as you do. . . .” Dick glared at 
him. “ I’m the only one of our party who knows 
anything about her origin. . . 

Hold your tongue ! ” yelled Dick, or I’ll 
brain you 1 ” 

“ Let me speak, let me explain matters. I’ll 
leave it to Bacon and Kingston to decide, if it is 
fair to rate me this way before I’ve explained.” 

To this they both gave approval. 

'‘Let him speak, Dick.” 

“ Hear him out, ’tis but fair.” 

With no concealment of his choler, Dick leant 
his elbow on the mantel-shelf, smoked furiously, 
compelling himself by his sense of justice to con- 
form with his friends’ arbitration ot“ fairness, albeit, 
he felt personally outraged and half betrayed. 

“ When we were all in Normandy,” began 
Jasper, “I met an old French painter, with whom 
I hob-nobbed considerably, while you three were 
otherwise engaged. He is a man very distinguished 
in art.” 

Dick, in an undertone, contemptuously inter- 
polated. 

“ He’s hedging now, his explanation doesn’t need 
a prologue.” 

“Very well. Master Richard, have that as you 
please. His name is Count De La Rue !'* mali- 
ciously retorted Jasper, chuckling to witness the 
start of astonishment his listeners gave. “He is 
the same individual, you will remember, who in- 


186 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


structed your friend in the art of singing, eh ?” 
He pointed at Dick, emphasising your friend ” 
with great animns. “ The old French reprobate 
had been the former lover of her mother.’’ Dick 
bit his lips, his countenance black through his 
augmenting wrath. “ By-the-bye, it may prove of 
family interest for you, Einhard Drysdale, to know 
that her mother was the celebrated diva, Clarisse 
Arditte. She sat as the model for the picture 
which secured De La Bue his title, for you should 
know that the lady’s beauty made her a favourite 
at Court, ^his is history, Dick.” Dick ^vas glaring 
at him, and appeared to be gathering himself up 
to close with him. Without noticing him, Jasper 
triumphantly sneered. ‘"The fact is sufficient to 
substantiate my assertion, if it ^vere needed, that 
the mother’s lover was left in charge of the daughter 
until she became of age ! ” 

“Jasper Rodgers, if you have invented this 
story, I swear by all that’s holj",- I’ll make you 
suffer for it ! ” fiercely threatened Dick, then 
suddenly approaching Jasper, “ I believe it is a 

lie.r^ 

These words were no sooner uttered than Jasper 
sprang upon Dick wdth clenched fists, dealt him a 
sledge-hammer blow fair in the chest, that sounded 
with a sickening thud, knocking him insensible to 
the floor. Bacon and Kingston jumped instantly 
to the men, horror-stricken, only to see Dick fall 
heavily to the floor. 

“My God ! Jasper, w^hat have you done ?” cried 


DICK ATTACKED. 


187 


Kingston, vv'lio with Bacon’s assistance lifted Dick’s 
prostrate form upon a lounge. 

“ He said I lied. Let me tell 3*011 both here 
and now, that the father of Clarisse Corneille is 
Dick’s uncle ! I have delicately withheld all these 
months afflicting him with the fact, only to be 
accused of lying. I won’t stand it. I’ll proclaim 
from the housetops the fact. The girl is a born 
demi-mondaine.^wd quite equal to take her own part. 
1 shall believe she’s Dick’s mistress if he persists 
in defending her. And then — w’ell, there’s honour 
amongst rogues, as the old saw goes— then. I’ll 
throw up the gauntlet.” Seeing that Dick did not 
recover consciousness, he wound up brutally, 
“ Nothing mean about me, fellows ; I’ll stand the 
damage, send for a doctor at my expense. I’ll 
profit whilst he sleepeth, and call on the 3^oung 
innocent.” And out he swaggered. 

A physician was called for. One of the members 
of the club, a well-known medical man, responded 
with alacrity. lie soon restored Dick to consciousness. 

“ A blow like that,” remarked the doctor, is 
enough to kill a man instantly. Any fellow who 
cannot control his brutal temper better than to in- 
flict such a blow*, ought to be prohibited from enter- 
ing a club not composed of bullies and prize-fighters. 
It’s an outrage not to be placidly tolerated. I for 
one shall instigate immediate steps to have that 
young brute expelled.’^ The doctor had delivered 
his sentiments with marked fervour from the first, 
enlisting his listeners’ support. 


188 


IIERBEllT SEVERA^■CE. 


Dick, now vvLolly conscious, said, Not only is 
he a brute, doctor, but he is a low, vicious defamer 
of women 1 Yes, so low be cannot admit that it is 
the duty of every man to protect e\e.'y woman’s 
fair name from infamy, without even entertaining 
an arriere-j)enseeJ* 

All the club fellows knew that there had been a 
great disturbance, and that in the fuss ” Rodgers 
had struck Drysdale a serious blow. Scandalous 
proceedings in their aristocratic club. The opinion 
was unanimous that the aggressor should forthwith 
be expelled without ceremony. Drysdale ought to 
have spirit enough to horsewhip him. All about a 
lady. Who was she ? This was just the point of 
danger. Comment would have it, with something 
like a shade of verity, that there could not be so 
much smoke without fire ; and so, and so, and so, 
like vitriol mixed wdth water, the hateful insinua- 
tions seethed and burned, spreading at a seven-league 
pace, till all the world knew, a sliaiidess, nameless, 
damning something, but v/hat ? 

They were all men, too, finding occupation in 
gossip that wmuld have put to blush the most 
confirmed among women of the guild of tattlers and 
mischief-makers. Some of these men w^ere coars- 
ened by uncouth, unclean stories, pronounced good 
because of their badness. Unfortunately, men 
congregating constantly with men, as a rule cease 
to reverence the purity of womankind. Even 
though personally never indulging in or condescend- 
ing to retail the questionable wdtticisms and stories 


DiCIt ATTACKED 


139 


ciuTCiit, the ear that hearkens often to like ribaldry 
loses its delicacy, and ceases in time being shocked, 
does not revolt against the implied undercurrent, 
because, in fact, inured by use to it. Natures 
cannot be entirely purged from the licentiousness, 
from the filthiness, which settles like a mould upon 
men, even if holding, as one amongst many, an 
entirely neutral attitude. The tendencies arc, 
as the fumes of the pothouse, to stupify the 
delicate senses. It is a pest. A ^voman’s najne 
tossed about like a shuttle-cock, from bat to bat, 
without compunction ! Let any man have the 
temerity to protest that he thinks the game abom- 
inable, and he must either ostracise himself, or else 
have his motives as a rule questioned. ... It 
is largely through thoughtlessness. Any man, no 
difference how debased, has moments when he 
haturally shrinks from putting a blot or exposing 
one already on the name of any woman. It is 
truly the sin of obliquity, which becomes gradually 
chronic, and a monstrous evil. Once the wrong 
is done, it can never, never be condoned. 

Evidently Dick had sustained a cruel shock, and 
was suffering physical torture. He felt oppressed 
by the throng of men crow^ding about him, as well 
as a great distaste for the conspicuousness of his 
position. The need of the reviving influence of 
fresh air increased painfully. He affirmed that he 
must get up and out at once. 

Recalling his engagement with his uncle, he felt 
annoyed to find the time very much advanced. 


106 


HERBEilT SEVERANCE. 


Kingston and Bacon proffered their escort to 
his hotel. After they had attained the street, Dick 
refused this kindness. 

Thank you, but I’m not going to the hotel ; 
I’ve an engagement at my uncle’s. I feel quite re- 
covered, and will spare you both further trouble. 
In fact, although I don’t wish to appear brusque or 
ungrateful, I want to collect my thoughts during a 
solitary walk, for I have important business to 
transact which commands my closest attention. 
Hearty thanks for your loyalty to me, Harry and 
Ned. I appreciate it.” 

So they diverged on their diverse roads. Dick 
review^ed his uncle’s morning conversation. Strange 
that he should, without knowing the circumstances, 
have denounced Clarisse as an itinerant mum- 
mer’s daughter,” and have spoken so contemp- 
tuously of her, as if a mere adventuress, scheming 
to have some one invest in her and back up her 
designs. So contrary to the facts. Very strange. 
Now it just occurred to him that he had failed to 
set his uncle right on this score, for in his resent- 
ment he had absolutely passed by that point. He 
had not even mentioned her name. As he now re- 
viewed it, his whole bearing seemed very maladroit 
to him, so far as his uncle was concerned. How- 
ever, he should make short w’ork of his morning 
blunder. Then he realised he had no right to pre- 
sume that Clarisse would accept him as a suitor. 
Then came a whirlwind of thoughts. Could Jasper 
really have been poisoned by rumours voiced by De 


DICK ATTACKED. 


191 


La Rue ? That name, Clarisse Arclitte ! How his 
brain swam ! His heart was struggling violently to 
burst its bonds ; for a moment he reeled ; clutching 
the fence railing, he managed to keep his footing 
and regain his equilibrium. He Lad almost reached 
his uncle’s house ; just a moment longer, and all 
would be well ; he could rest there. 

“ Courage, Dick ! courage, Dick ! ” he involun- 
tarily murmured as he realised his uncertain condi- 
tion, for the five or ten rods’ distance yet to walk 
seemed to extend indefinitely into limitless space. 

Just then a neighbour descended from a carriage, 
proceeded to unlatch his door, but, attracted by 
Dick’s murmur, paused, looking about to discover 
the source. He perceived that something was amiss 
with the man who leant against the railing, and 
stepped down from his doorstep to render aid. 

“ Hello, Drysdale I are you ill ? ” 

“Oh, no, thank you. I’m a trifle dizzy. I’ll 
be all serene when once I reach my uncle’s.” 

“ Take my arm. I’ll see you safe there. 
Rather unpleasant to be buffeting about alone 
if one’s not well at this hour of the night. Fine 
bracing weather this. Quite autumnal,” chatted 
the neighbour, and Dick at heart was thankful 
to feel the prop afforded by his arm and presence. 
As they stepped to his uncle’s door, he withdrew 
his arm from the neighbour’s. 

“I shouldn’t like to alarm my uncle, so will 
you have the kindness to leave me now ? I’m 
perfectly safe. Many thanks.” 


HEilBERt SEVERAJ^CJi. 


m 


Whilst waiting for the door to open, Dick*s 
thoughts flew like lightning — Jasper, De La Rue, 
the picture, the title, the girl’s mother, the girl’s 
self. My God ! What a pressure on his brain ! 
What a leaden load on his heart ! Would the 
door never be opened ? He could not maintain 
his standing position much longer. 

Once within, the reaction came. Nature only 
asserted her rights to a penalty, because she had 
been harshly violated. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


clarisse’s day dreams. 


*■* Yes, Love is ever busy with his shuttle, 

Is ever weaving into life’s dull warp 
Bright, gorgeous flowers and scenes Arcadian ; 
Hanging our gloomy prison-house about 
With tapestries that make its walls dilate 
In never-ending vistas of delight.” 



HEN Mrs Bleecker arrived at home, she 


requested Clarisse to come to her boudoir. 


There and then she proposed to give the young 
girl a word of wholesome caution. 

Clarisse, responsive to the summons, came at 
once. She appeared in a dejected frame of mind, 
threw herself down on a hassock at Miss Bleecker s 
feet, placing her elbows upon the little lady’s knees, 
and, resting her chin between the palms of her out- 
opened hands, assumed a miserable counterfeit of a 
smile. 

Here I am, all attention.” 

The little lady patted the top of her head 
affectionately. 

Clarisse, my darling, you must be more circum- 
spect in your conduct towards young men, for they 
often misconstrue an ingenuous act, and accuse a 


194 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


frank, free-hearted girl like yourself of intentions 
which she never dreamed.” Clarisse looked in 
distress up into the speaker’s face, but sat per- 
fectly mute. “ I give you this caution, my dear 
child, not to find fault with you, but out of pure 
and simple kindness, and to ward off many un- 
pleasant occurrences in the future.” 

“Yes, Mrs Bleecker, I know you are perfectly 
right, and I do thank you so very much for your 
affectionate interest in me. Will you believe that 
I have been suffering the tortures of purgatory aU 
day, dyropos of the bit of thoughtless folly of which 
I was guilty the other evening ? ” 

“ AVhat was it, my child ? Perhaps I can adjust 
the fault.” 

“ The horse-shoe. Honestly, I thought nothing 
about it myself till Edith put the act before 
me. She chid^ed me severely for my error, and 
pointed out to me the same thing respecting my 
deportment you have hinted. But, in Edith’s 
vehement language, my faux 'pas appeared to be 
beyond retracing, so I’ve been miserably unhappy.” 
Clarisse spoke rapidly, her voice and eyes full of 
tears, her cheeks blazing ; the arteries in her temples 
and throat swelled and receded perceptibly in uni- 
son with the throbbing pulsation of her agitated 
heart. Observing this, Mrs Bleecker drew the girl 
closer to her, and continued her talk in a very low 
voice, fraught with comforting assuagement to the 
young girl. 

“ Never mind that, Clarisse, only as a lesson. I 


clartsse's day dreams. m 

can help you out of it at once.” Opening her 
satchel she took out the trinket : Here, my dear, 

is the trumpery gawd — the poor, little innocent 
horseshoe that shod your faux pasf handing it to 
Claiisse, who darted to her feet, clapped her hands, 
ran to the door, and called in a clarion voice, full of 

joy : 

“ Edith ! Edith ! do come here. Mrs Bleecker 
has such a surprise ! Hurry, Edith !” E-eturning 
to Mrs Bleecker’s side she kissed the little lady’s 
forehead impulsively two or three times, saying, 
with a degree of unrestrained gusto she seldom, if 
ever, indulged in Avhen addressing one so much her 
senior : How I thank you ! you have rescued me 
from censure and ignominy ! That’s what a girl’s 
own mother would do,n^ est ce pas f you dear, darling 
dea r ! ” 

Edith came, and Mrs Bleecker, after considerable 
teasing on the part of the girls, consented to gratify 
their curiosity to the extent of explaining casually 
timt Mr Rodgers unfortunately was occasionally 
given to fits of inebriation, when he made too free 
use of ladies’ names. Having been warned to 
this effect, and that he was on a spree, she had 
resolved to obtain the little trinket by a round- 
about manoeuvre, so as not to impart undue import- 
ance to the incident, as she feared he might 
retaliate upon Clarisse for the miff she caused him 
the other evening, leading to the token ; but it was 
not worth narrating. She charged both the girls to 
shun Mr Rodgers as they might a venomous reptile. 

Clarisse burst out in a wail of distress. 


196 


HERBERT SEVERAKCE. 


“ Mon Lieu ! Mon Dieu ! Mrs Bleecker ! what 
shall I do ? what shall Ido? J ust think. I wrote 
to Mr Rodgers to return the token, excusing my 
apparent boldness for imagining that he^would care 
to retain it, explaining that I prized it because it 
was a little talismanic keepsake given to me by my 
former tutor, Count De La Rue, and in its absence I 
was without a mascot. He has not deigned to 
reply. Do you think he will make evil use of the 
note to my harm ? ” 

For an instant Mrs Bleecker was blank in amaze- 
ment, when she suddenly recollected that Mr Bacon 
had destroyed the note. 

Without particularising, she assured Clarisse that 
the note had been utterly destroyed beyond redemp- 
tion. . Moreover, no one was at all likely to credit 
any statement that he should feel malicious enough 
to make respecting the circumstance, insomuch as he 
no longer possessed either the note or the trinket. 

“But, for heaven’s sake, Clarisse, never, never, 
never write to any person unless you are sure of 
your correspondent. I may say never write to any 
man unless he is a relative, or you are engaged to 
him. Letters, my dear child, and the misconstruc- 
tion the recipient or an outside party of evil mind 
may put upon their contents, have, I assure you, 
caused more actual wretchedness and useless humilia- 
tion, brought about more serious dilemmas than 
aught else throughout the world. It has been so 
from time immemorial. It will continue till dooms- 
day.” 


CLArJSSE’s DAY DREAMS. 


197 


To this edict Edith, like one who had experience 
in this respect, kept signing assent until the mistress 
of diplomacy had finished. 

*■ What you have just said, Mrs Bleecker, in spite 
of it«! cruelty, is too bitterly true.” She spoke sadly. 
“ Fci tliis icason I was rather hard on Clarisse. In- 
somuch as all has ended well at your hands, let us, 
as Ml Blceckei would say, ‘sing a jubilee,’ or ‘ un- 
furl the flags to celebrate the glorious victory ! ’ and 
vow to abstain from future sins of commission of like 
kind. What do you say, Clarisse ? ” 

“ With all my heart, chdrie. Do you know, Mrs 
Bleecker,” she spoke thoughtfull}^, “my soul is in a 
revolt over the unrealness of my convent education. 
Just think how .shocking it is, that one is taught 
nothing about these material, practical things of 
daily life. The innocence of a convent girl assumes 
the guise of downright ignorance, now that I meet 
men out of holy orders. I am so grateful, so very 
very grateful to you, Mrs Bleecker.” Then she 
timorously asked, “What do you think my guar- 
dian will say ? ” 

“ Good gracious ! Clarisse, don’t be silly, and 
make a mountain out of a mole hill. There is no 
earthly necessity for dwcdling on this ephemeral in- 
cident any more than there is in communicating to 
your guardian how sick you were made by impru- 
dently eating bon-bons at Paris, or how jmur new 
walking shoes pinched your toes. He’s a man of 
business, and naturally has other much more im- 
portant things to deal with. I have settled this 


108 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


unpleasantness, I believe, permanently, so let us all 
discard it from our thoughts as rubbish.” 

After djlivering this mandate, taken from her 
exhaustless code of policy, she bade Clarisse and 
Edith to betake themselves to their rooms, and 
make their dinner toilets. 

Early after dinner, Clarisse excused herself, and 
sought the retirement of her own room, content in 
having had her thoughtless indiscretion so admirably 
wiped out by her faithful ally, Mrs Bleecker, espe- 
ci illy as it was in accordance with Dick’s views. 

Her thoughts soon were basking in the dreamy 
light of love’s enthralment. She yearned to give 
herself completely up to its illusionary phantas- 
magoria, apart from all members of the household. 
Sitting alone, in the gloaming, looking out of the 
window upon the stately trees in the square 
opposite the house, her thoughts v’ere clothed in 
fancies as varied as the gorgeous tints of the 
foliage, ''glorified for death ,'' — fancies new to her, 
fancies that stirred her innermost self, fancies 
striving, imbued with a firstborn love for a lover, 
set her pulses thrilling, quickening an unknown 
delight, tinged her present with a roseate hue, 
and prompted longings for companiomship and 
responsiveness. 

“ Oh, if Dick only knew how I love him, I am 
sure he would make some sign and relieve me of 
this suspense.” Then, she thought with sickening 
dread, " Perhaps he loves some one else — perhaps 


clarisse’s DAA" dreams. 


199 


lie is pledged to another — perhaps he is, after all, 
indifferent to me. Ah, no, for I feel now more 
irresistibly than ever that, unless he too loves me, 
he could not draw me to him as he does.” Her 
cheeks had glowed rose-red, she evinced an impati- 
ence as she stretched out her arms and clasped her 
hands impressively in the uncertain light, and 
continued to soliloquize with renewed fervour : 

Hick, bid me come to you, and I will fly to 
your arms ; bid me forsake all this earth contains 
and come to you, and I will not hesitate, only love 
me ! Let my love, my devotion carry a fulness of 
life to you, that will be worthy of your noble 
nature ! ” 

This frail lily was being tossed about in the 
sweep of a tempestuous simoon. She had never 
experienced a sentiment approaching a passion 
before. The thoughts she now indulged in, so 
personal, so sacred to her, she felt must be carefully 
treasured and hidden from the knowledge of even 
Edith. Thus it was, in a few brief hours, her utter 
frankness had been transformed. She was ready 
to assume a disguise, willing to entertain a secret, 
eager to sound the depths of the unrevealed. Her 
love could have but one confidant outside of her 
own heart. Her duty discovered itself to her in a 
new phase. The horizon of her world had suddenly 
extended into new domains. Love, her passport, 
was strange to no language. 

Why, oh why cannot mortals be dowered with 
power of discernment w^hich might open up the 


200 HEllBERT SEVER ANCE. 

secrets of each other’s hearts, empowering each 
lover and beloved to comprehend at inception, love’s 
wondrous cadences ? No, it needs must be that 
the quickening comes too often with mournful 
dread, lest the passion be not reciprocated and shall 
be harshly repulsed. Fate seldom bestows this 
benison without first subjecting to all manner of 
difficult, harassing ordeals those she aims to bless 
in the end. 

“ Does love ever come like a flash of lightning ? ” 
Clarisse queried to herself, or does it rather creep 
upon one like a growing vine, spreading out its ten- 
drils in all directions, which to uproot needs must 
result in its total destruction, and in the defacement 
of the most sturdy structure of granite over which it 
has crept ? ” Then she thought she had flushed 
with pleasure the first time she saw Dick. She had 
not experienced anything akin for his three friends, 
nor in good truth for other mortal, before or since. 
Yet she could mind well how, day by day, so gradu- 
ally but firmly, her attachment for him had unfolded. 
Somehow Dick to her always appeared to be labour- 
ing under great restraint when alone in her presence. 
Why ? Surely he must be able to divine her true 
feelings. Yet he had never lisped to her one direct 
w'ord, not one word which might not have been in- 
terpreted otherwise, to convey reciprocity of her 
sentiment on his part. She believed, mainly because 
she so wished, that he preferred to make his endless 
acts speak more eloquently than fulsome hackneyed 
words, 


clarisse’s day dreams. 


201 


"Certainly,” she murmured, "in a thousand 
ways Dick has proved his love for me.” Then came 
the nameless dread lest her guardian might offer 
some opposition to her choice. This thought dyed 
her face crimson. Pride flung a mantle of burning 
mortification over her for indulging in such indelicate 
dreaming. For, after all, it was her choice of Dick, 
and not Dick's choice of her. It was unmaidenly. 

" Mon Dieu ! Mon Dieu ! les convenances^ 
toujour les convenances. Cest terrible ! ” 

Soon her reverie reverted to her life at school in 
the convent. Like an echo returned the many 
cautions, wise hints of life’s precarious and devious 
paths, which Count De La Rue had poured into her 
ears during the last year of her sojourning, when he 
knew the time inevitable approached at a rapid rate 
for her to take up her new life in a foreign land. 
He was a cynic ever. She recalled one time in 
particular he was teaching her a love-ditty, how he 
scoffed at the idea embodied in the words, of a 
destiny in love. 

The words came softly tripping from her lips — 

" The stars come nightly to the sky, 

The tidal wave unto the sea, 

Nor time, nor space, nor deep, nor high. 

Can keep my own away from me.” 

Something special dwelt in the words for her 
to-night. Ah, well, if it were so to be, it must be. 
She could wait and trust to destiny. 

How little did she apprehepd the almost tragic 


202 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


trial Dick was passing through in her behalf while 
she sat so blissfully preening Fancy for flights to 
empyrean regions of delight ! 

Where then were all those fabled emissaries 
appointed to guard and inform souls which are 
affinities, of the peril or joy of one another ? 

How was it possible for her to thus sit in utter 
unconsciousness of Dick’s encounter at the club 
with Jasper ? How could she sleep subsequently, 
and not be haunted by the spectres which stalked 
through her guardian’s recital of his sorrows ? 

To these problems the answers must remain un- 
spoken until the unveiling of all mysteries in the 
great Hereafter. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


CONNECTING LINKS. 


** Was a woman of genius : whose genius indeed 
With her life was at war. Once, but once in that life 
The chance had been hers to escape from this strife 
In herself ; finding peace in the life of another, 

From the passionate wants she in hers failed to smother.” 



ERBERT SEVERANCE stole cautiously up 


— ■- to Dick’s chamber the morning after their 
extraordinary experiences and interview, fearful 
that his nephew might be seriously indisposed. 
Seeing his uncle’s face peering through the open 
door, clothed by an expression of asking dread, Dick 
saluted him with good-natured pleasantry. 

“ In words of your pet statesman the illustrious 
Dan, * I’m not dead yet ! ’ Uncle, I’ve something 
very personal to confide' to you, the moment you’ve 
completed the history of your life’s sorrow. I hope 
you’ll lose no time, for I burn with desire to 
surprise you.” 

Very well, Dick, after you’ve had a cup of 
coffee, a bath, and that inevitable shave. I’ll do so. 
. . . How do you find yourselt all in all this 
morning ? ” 

** As fine as a fiddle strung up to concert pitch I” 


204 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


“ That’s good. Come down soon, my boy, to the 
library,” and Herbert Severance descended with a 
heavy heart to await his nephew’s appearance. He 
half regretted in the garish daylight having been 
beguiled into telling Dick his heart history. Re- 
pinings were of no avail now, he must brave it 
through to the end. 

The facts relating to the ghost in his whited 
sepulchre, as told to Dick, can be summarised as 
follows : — 

Clarisse Arditte loved truly and fondly Herbert 
Severance, but the domesticity of matrimonial 
existence was all new and quite foreign to her. 
Success and its resultant sway over the public 
possessed a rare charm for this lovely child-woman. 
She gloried in her powers, and each day found it 
more difficult, more of a hardship, to think of 
resigning her vantage ground. Whereas on the 
contrary, had she made a failure, and the 
bounteous love of Herbert Severance then offered 
his fortune, his position, to her wounded pride as 
a refuge, she would have eagerly accepted the 
shelter from the rough winds and sleeting frost of 
failure, with a sense of gratitude and relief ; but at 
the very zenith of her popularity, at a time when the 
world bowed obsequiously at her feet, when she was 
bidden by royal command to sing before crowned 
heads, a pet at court, overwhelmed by fortune, by 
favour, — an unparalleled success, professionally as 
well as socially, at such a time the thought of abdi- 
cating in favour of some would-be rival was like 


CONNECTING LINKS. 


205 


welcoming banishment from a resplendent realm to 
a barren waste. She could not supinely tolerate the 
idea, at least not then. 

Alone in her chamber, removed from the delirium 
of this sort of life, she strove earnestly to adapt 
herself uncomplainingly to the inevitable, for she 
realised it must surely come, and come very soon. 
She made sterling, masterful efforts to overcome or 
subjugate to other things the pride she took in her 
glorious career. For the moment she would be 
resolved to abjure forthwith the bewitching glitter 
and attraction of her operatic life for the narrow 
sphere of wife. Just as often did she strenuously 
renounce her resolve, when some new public conquest 
added a fresh glamour to her illusionary estate. 
Then she grew sick at heart, and repented her ojf her 
marriage. 

Constantly surrounded by impresarios, journa- 
lists, and professionals, who unceasingly depicted 
to her a destiny unknown to any other singer, 
she felt a latent taunt in the insinuating remarks, 
tinged with mocking pity, she heard on all sides, 
namely, that the time approached at a winged-pace 
when this child of genius should be snatched from 
her royally earned empire. Doubtless the favoured 
suitor was above reproach, but the true, unbiased 
genius should wed art alone. A scathing acrimony 
emphasised these foregone regrets, voiced here and 
there amongst the coteries of admirers who ever 
dance attendance at the shrine of the successful 
divcb. Try as she might to inure herself to their 


206 


HEllBERT SEVERANCE. 


carpings, every breath in this direction tended to 
shake her belief that she had chosen wisely. She 
was gradually imbued with a spirit of repining that 
became stronger than her resolves. 

In her infatuating quest for more and more 
exalted fame, her heart insensibly played the 
wanton. It was so noble to dedicate one’s self 
without reserve to the talent God had bestowed. 
Then came to back her up a vague sense of martyr- 
dom — a mere lapse of a sore conscience, possibly to 
avoid self-blame. Was it not, in point of fact, selfish 
and shirking in her to so soon forsake the work 
and incessant struggle requisite to reach the loftiest 
goal, for personal happiness, for a life all coleur de 
rose, remote from individual moil, and peaceably 
sink inactively back into the lap of indolent 
luxury ? 

How these queries made her beat about seeking 
a safe anchorage ! How doubt, like a masked 
demon, surreptitiously crept in to haunt the waver- 
ing spirit of this faltering one ! 

Anon, her other self, her dual antithesis, repri- 
manded the errant one, and as faithfully rehabili- 
tated her in the desire to live with the aim of 
finding “ peace in the life of another,” and lovingly 
devote herself to make Herbert happy, away, far 
away from the noisy fray, freed from the artificiality 
of all the false round of semblances ; to be simply 
Clarisse, the wife of Herbert Severance, seemed at 
these times her sheet anchor. 

A ‘‘ Kir mess ” to be given under the patronage 


CONNECTING LINKS. 


207 


of the Empress Eugenie for the benefit of the Hos- 
pital of the Noveau Ni, to be held in the gardens 
of the Tuileries, was an occasion for which Clarisse 
was besought by the Empress in person to preside 
at a flower bazaar. It was customary for all artistes 
of renown to proffer their services upon similar 
occasions for reclame, therefore, to be sought and 
not seek, was esteemed an exceptional honour, and 
rare manifest of royal favour that Clarisse could not 
resist. 

Here all Paris flocked. The most extortionate 
prices were recklessly bid for the flowers, until soon 
every bud and leaf was sold. Then her bouquet de 
corsage was sought as a guerdon. A shower of 
golden louis poured upon each leaf she touched. At 
the finish an aspirant for approbation audaciously 
made a startling bid for the ** glove of Made- 
moiselle” In all innocence she began to draw off the 
glove, whereat the bids, in over-riding rivalry, grew 
deafening. She, full of excitement over the mone- 
tary result, kept enticing fresh bidders by little pert 
asides, suggestive shrugs of her shoulders, and 
moues, implying that at their niggardly prices the 
precious article would be sacrificed. She shook her 
head with irresistible coquetry, anon darted a glance 
of solicitation to a monsieur who was craning his 
neck as he stood on tiptoe to show himself above 
the throng, and announce a princely sum. The sum 
was fabulous. She could not hope to increase it, 
and concluded to close the bargain. 

High above the din of voices came the words, 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


If mademoiselle will kiss the purchaser, I’ll double 
the money for the other glove ! ” 

An instant sufficed. Herbert Severance clutched 
the insolent wretch by the throat, and was crushing 
him with brutal violence down under his feet upon 
the ground, absolutely blinded out of all reason by 
his fury. 

Ho one interfered. He was Clarisse’s recognised 
champion. Although many frantically gesticulated 
and fairly shrieked as they jabbered excitedly, some 
protesting the chastisement was too harsh, others 
approving with a menacing air, Clarisse, as one in- 
spired, although much terrified by the wild milee, 
pale as death, in a clear ringing voice burst out in 
a simple popular ballad — 

“ 'Would’st that I lov’d thee.” 

As by magic the angry turmoil was lulled, Her- 
bert Severance, like one under a sudden spell, un- 
loosed his grip. The disgraced culprit arose, clothed 
in a better manhood, elbowed through the crowd, 
his head bowed in deep humiliation, and said, so all 
might hear with distinctness : 

“ Mademoiselle, I’m covered with shame, and 
contritely sue for pardon.” A faint hiss was the 
fuse to kindle the most explosive cheers. Clarisse 
with loveable graciousness granted her forgiveness. 

“ Oh ! Monsieur, I am so sorry'' she sweetly said. 

Hearing of the finesse exhibited by her favourite, 
the Empress sent by one of her courtiers a royal 
command for the diva to dine at the palace, with 


CONNECTING LINKS. 


209 


the assurance, Mademoiselle shall not be detained 
so as to make her late for the opera.” 

Clarisse, flushed with delight over the public 
homage conferred so openly upon her by the Em- 
press’s mark of approbation, expressed her grateful 
acceptance with winning dignity. She left the 
gardens forthwith midst the din of acclamation, to 
make her preparations, accompanied by Herbert, 
who had not yet recovered from his recent agitation. 
He touched his hat in forgiveness as he passed the 
Frenchman. 

“ I wish it had not happened,” regretfully said 
Clarisse. “ Herbert, for the first time have I been 
made to feel the mortification of a scathing insult. 
Oh, to think that blatant men should dare bid for 
my kisses ! Is it not too degrading ? ” 

Yes, I think so, my darling. I should have 
killed the impudent varlet without compunction, had 
you not called me back just in time to reason by 
your song. Oh, Clarisse ! Clarisse 1 I entreat you 
to renounce at once a career which renders you 
liable to such abominable outrages ! Tins is your 
last night in Paris, make it your last night on the 
stage. For my sake, renounce henceforth its shams, 
its mockeries, its hollow enticements, and let us 
live apart from the defilement and hideousness of 
this leering, hooting multitude ! ” 

This fervent appeal, coming in the hour of her 
chagrin, almost set an unbreakable seal upon her 
resolve to give it all up at once ; but the dinner ! 
She must hasten and make her toilet. 


o 


210 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


Herbert watched her with longing sad eyes drive 
away without him. It was Court etiquette, never- 
theless he was not reconciled to the humbuggery of 
an etiquette requiring these ceremonious strictures. 
He had temporarily forgotten that their marriage was 
clandestine, hence he was cringing from an unin- 
tended slight. His reluctance to submit to the usages 
of Court customs was born in this instance of his 
unhappy frame of mind. Love had shot into his 
splendid heart a poisoned arrow — ^jealousy — to 
rankle and embitter bis exi.stence, yet he would 
have sternly repudiated such a charge as beneath 
consideration. 

He jealous ? Of whom ? Of what ? He, the 
happiest of mortals, the most blessed of men, he 
indulge in a sentiment so demeaning ! Most 
assuredly not jealous ! But it was tiresome to 
put up with, ireful to know that any individual, 
of high or mean and low degree, old or young, had 
the privilege, by the payment of an admission fee, 
to gaze upon her transcendent beauty, had the 
right to regale themselves within sound of her 
voice — hers ! — or applaud according as their vulgar 
taste or fractious humour might dictate ! It was 
simply insufferable. 

Then the enforced association with men and 
women without moral standing in the profession 
he could but contemn, and resent with uncon - 
cealed displeasure. Did he wish to make of hh 
beloved an odalisque ? Yes, that or anything, to 
seclude her from the rude odious gaze of the mul- 


CONNECTING LINKS. 


211 


titude, and ward ofif the professional contact with 
foul-mouthed men, even if they were renowned 
singers. He detested the whole business. It hurt 
him on all sides. 

Singular phase of masculine mind, the woman 
a man adores, in the extravagance of his passion 
to whom he bends a worshipful knee, whom he 
looks reverentially up to as a goddess upon a 
towering pedestal, before whom he avows his un- 
worthy estate, that he should dare essay to the full 
exclusive possession and enthralment of the same 
woman, and, in his egotism, fancy he can replace to 
her all the dazzling world he implores her to surrender 
for him. And that he dares think his personal attri- 
butes are all-sufficing, when she once is his wife, to 
efface every hope, every yearning, outside his 
orbit ! Dull of memory, he forgets that he pursued, 
waylaid, tried by every art to entrap the woman, 
hindered and circumvented every other wooer ; 
and possibly the pseudo devotion evinced by his 
besetting importunities drove the girl, out of sheer 
inability to withstand, to accept him before she 
knew herself, before she had half a chance to know 
what order of man was her match. 

The man’s life continues, as a rule, undisturbed 
on the same scale of liberty, but the woman’s 
becomes exactly what he makes it for her, unless 
she possesses a wayward, independent disposition, 
or be not over-scrupulous when she finds herself 
thwarted, or in a desperate stress over her inexor- 
able state if she discovers a kindred soul elsewhere. 


212 


HEKBERT SEVERANCE. 


Certain vagaries, the very antithesis to sordid 
facts, had always taxed Herbert Severance in the 
old days. He had felt, in any case, the grievance 
must be the man’s. 

Clarisse’s reception by the Emperor and Empress 
was accounted a triumph allotted but to few in her 
profession. Her loveliness and chaste beauty 
attracted great admiration and pronounced homage. 
The exquisite texture of her skin, the brilliant 
whiteness of her complexion, with the varying 
flushing of her cheeks, and the crimson of her 
sensuous sensitive lips, were not due to stage 
artifices. Nature had lavishly endowed this gifted 
girl with both rare physical health and beauty. 

The exciting episode of the afternoon had im- 
parted to her an excessive degree of animation. 
She gave mot for mot, and was the centre of 
attention. 

- Almost at the close of the dinner, the Empress 
addressed her with marked complacency : 

“ Mademoiselle Arditte, to your superb beauty 
Monsieur le Count He La Rue owes his title. We 
are not mistaken in assuming that you were his dis- 
tinguished model for his celebrated chef d'oeuvre ^ ” 

Clarisse blushed crimson, and burned with confu- 
sion for a moment. Quickly regaining her self-pos- 
session, she bowed, and attempted a rejoinder. 

“Your gracious Majesty flatters me. I posed 
merely for the face. Does your Majesty like the 
tableau ? ” 

“ So much so that we are the possessors of it. 


CONNECTING LINKS. 


213 


If you pass into the adjoining salon, you may 
behold it in its place of honour.” 

The Emperor extended to Clarisse his hand, 
conducted her into the salon indicated with as much 
pomp as if she had been royalty. There was the 
picture ** Souvenir” placed on an easel below a 
portrait of the Empress. 

As they stood gazing at it, the Emperor with 
blandishment commented upon the inefficacy of art 
to portray Mademoiselle’s matchless beauty. In an 
undertone, purposely vague to evoke Clarisse’s strict 
attention, he remarked with true Latin esprit: 

“We regret exceedingly. Mademoiselle, we are 
not a Louis Seize, but, we account ourselves even 
more than he, or a double Louis d’or, when above 
all we are your slave ! ” 

It might have been only a fagon de parler^ none 
the less a shiver crept over Clarisse. The words 
carried to her fanciful imagination an import she 
did not feel able to cope with. 

Noticing the involuntary tremor, the Emperor 
queried if she felt cold. She frankly attributed 
the act to nervousness common to artistes. Still 
her embarrassment was obvious, and to relieve her 
if possible, he turned the conversation. 

“ We shall do ourselves the pleasure of listening 
to your Majesty y the peerless Queen of Song^ 
to-night. We trust your Majesty may outshine 
herself, if miracles be possible ! ” 

She curtsied deferentially'; for this was no mean 
evidence of his “ distinguished consideration.” After 


214 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


a certain incumbent ceremony attending her adieus, 
Clarisse found herself in her coupe speeding to 
the opera house. At the stage entrance Herbert 
awaited her, and with gladsome heart conducted 
her to her dressing-room. 

She was overflowing with exhilaration ; over her 
countenance spread a radiance quite different from 
the customary brightness which ever beautified her 
face. Herbert looked at her in admiration, and 
warmed up to effusive compliments. 

“ Your beauty is perfectly ravishing to-night ! 
If you reflect the enjoyment of your reception, 
surely you have used the Emperor’s crown for a 
footstool, and have had all France harlequining for 
your amusement ! Let the Emperor have his 
crown and his madcap France. I say with Antony, 
give him — 

‘ This rattle of a globe to play withal, 

This gew-gaw world, and put him cheaply off ; 

I’ll not be pleased with less than Cleopatra.’ ” 

And he imprinted an ardent kiss upon her lips. 

Clarisse was not displeased with this outgush of 
pure ecstasy from Herbert. He revelled in her 
conquest and in her beauty ; once he had her near 
him for a few undivided moments, unshared, unin- 
terrupted by others. 

It was widespread that the Emperor and 
Empress would honour the opera on this particular 
night, hence the house was packed with, a brilliant 
bejewelled assembly of notable personages, the elite 


CONNECTING LINKS. 


215 


of Paris, tbe entire Court. The royal loge was 
gorj^eously adorned with flowers and silken banners. 
The entire house was brilliant with the French 
colours. As usual when an artist was filed by their 
august highnesses everything was retarded, every- 
thing awaited their serene pleasure. Punctuality 
is too servile a trait, too plebeian to hamper royalty. 
Presently the ominous hum of voices, the rustle 
and stir of rising people, made manifest their 
arrival. Then came long, swelling, deafening 
shouts, “ Vive VEmpereur ! Vive V Impe'ratrice I 
Vive la France ! ” 

Clarisse was in remarkably fine voice. Thrice 
the Emperor condescended to reach out of his box, 
and present her each time with a magnificent 
floral offering, to which was affixed a rare and costly 
gawd. One of the three, unique in design, repre- 
sented a soaring nightingale crowned with stars, 
upbearing in its claws the world, on which appeared 
miniatures of the Emperor and Empress. The 
others were infinitely more conspicuous as to value, 
but not nearly so significant. 

During the entr'acte the Empress insisted upon 
Clarisse presenting herself in the royal box. Here 
she was greeted with vociferous cheers — for this 
people was not indifferent to the Empress’s 
choice. Anon, the Emperor sought her dressing- 
room, to express in person their delectation, and 
renew his personal plaudits, assuring her in his own 
captivating way : 

“ Mademoiselle, you are Queen of a realm, to 


,216 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


which no pretender can lay claim, as to other 
empires.” He kissed her hand, and returned to 
his box. 

She went before the footlights again, but not with 
the unconscious zeal nor elan with which she had 
heretofore sung her role. She seemed to be dissem- 
bling to herself. She felt the Emperor’s eyes upon 
her. She observed the audience significantly regard- 
ing, first the Emperor, who was most demonstrative, 
then looking at her. What did it all mean ? She 
grew dizzy, was on the verge of stage-fright. The 
tenors voice was growing dimmer and dimmer, 
everything was receding in wavy mists. Instinctively 
she knew that the orchestra was repeating, this 
sounded the tocsin of warning. Only by a supreme 
effort of will did she overcome the impending horror. 
A tremendous exertion restored her artistic aj^lomh. 
She no longer saw the Emperor. The sea of faces 
presented to her only a crowded collection of white 
spots and dots, interspersed with splashes of colour 
and flashing jewels. She sang.- 

The audience was electrified, wild enthusiasm 
prevailed. She exceeded herself. Her heart, her 
soul seemed to be scintillating and melting into 
notes. This was her farewell. It was a triumph 
not soon to be forgotten in the annals of the musical 
world. 

Nestling timidly but trustingly in Herbert’s 
arms as they drove home, she murmured ; 

‘‘ It is, as you said, all unreal. I am cheating 
myself, and becoming consumed through delusions. 


CONNECTING LINKS. 


217 


Should I falter, fail, lose my beauty, this same 
public would hiss me without mercy ! ” Herbert 
interrupted her with a comforting sally : 

''Now, my darling, you can say, like Mme. 
Pompadour, 'Aprhs nous le deluge' for you have 
reached the very summit of fame’s pinnacle.” 

Offers poured in upon her from every noted 
impresario. To all she replied in the negative, 
averring that she was married, and going to America 
to live in retirement. 

Clarisse was positively sincere in the latter state- 
ment, and in her belief that she should do so. 
Somehow she had experienced a sudden distaste for 
her career, notwithstanding the achievement of her 
last night in Paris. 

Habit constituted a clog to Clarisse^s good re- 
solves. She missed her study, her rehearsals, the 
costumiers, the photographers, the excitement ; aye, 
and a thousand things immaterial considered sepa- 
rately, but banished by one fell swoop, left blanks, 
made long gruesome hours of absolute inertia which 
hung heavily upon her. She constantly sought to 
find out whatever did people do with themselves 
who had no work, no study. How could they 
endure their aimless dalliance in a method of life 
so ambiguous to her? In course of time she 
drifted into a new untried channel for amusement. 
She could now read the delightful books she had so 
long craved to delve into, but till now time had 
failed her. 

Unfortunately, Herbert Severance’s tastes in 


218 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


literature were certainly not wholesome for a 
young impressionable mind, like hers. In view 
of a long-contemplated journey to the Orient, he 
had collected all sorts of books treating upon the 
cults of Buddhism. He had also a number of 
German metaphysical works and French books 
without number on psychological themes, besides 
a long list of romances impinging on strange if not 
occult influences. 

With the contrariety of her sex, Clarisse lighted 
upon these books, and above all became unduly 
interested in the general subject matter of the 
pagan cults. 

She quizzed Herbert daily concerning the various 
theories therein laid forth, always winding up with, 
“ Do you believe that ? 

One day she launched out in a most aggressive 
way, after propounding a series of questions ex- 
tremely averse in their import, and difficult to 
answer. 

“ Well, according to your statement, instead of 
our being free agents, we are creatures of fate * I 
have always believed so, although I have never 
dared assert my belief before.” 

Herbert immediately averted further discussion, 
and determined in his own mind to start on a journey 
to distract Clarisse’s attention from a line of reflec- 
tions he now deemed pernicious. In due course, 
so as not to exhibit the slightest degree of peculi- 
arity by a too sudden change of intention, which 
might arouse her suspicions as to his ulterior pur- 


CONNECTING LINKS. 


219 


pese, Le announced his short-sighted plan, offering as 
an excuse for not returning to America at once, as 
they had heretofore arranged, that his father ex- 
pressedly wished him to visit the Orient before 
going back. 

She was not only willing, but impatient that 
they should be off without delay. She seconded 
every suggestion Herbert made on this score — lent 
her thought and energy to complete their purchases 
to make ready for an expedition likely to involve 
two years’ absence. 

Herbert was jubilant over the effect of his ndw 
scheme upon Clarisse, especially insomuch as he 
had anticipated much opposition and some com- 
patible objections on her part. She in turn went 
carolling from morning till night about their apart- 
ment without thinking of aught but their journey, 
and talked unceasingly about the enjoyment they 
should derive. 

One morning at table, as they were finishing 
breakfast, Clarisse interrupted Herbert in some 
remark he was making. 

“Herbert, does your father know you are 
married?” she said quite irrelevantly. “And to 
me ? ” 

He laughed good-naturedly. 

“My darling, you are becoming really inquisi- 
torial these days. First you put me in pillory as 
to -articles of faith, then lo, and behold, you put the 
thumb-screws on me concerning my family ? ” 

. “ Yes, but, Herbert, you have not answered me. ' 


220 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


I ask again in all seriousness, does your father know 
that you are married ? And to me ? ” 

“ Yes ! He knows I am married. I sent him a 
copy of the consular certificate, so he knows ; also 
to whom.” 

Herbert, does he know I was a singer ? ” 

*'No, my dear, I presume not, but why concern 
yourself about this affair ? In time he will have 
the pleasure of knowing and loving you in person, 
my darling.” 

Clarisse looked up reproachfully. 

I should despise you, or any one who would 
dare insult me by accepting me under protest, and 
merely tolerate me because of you ! ... No ! 
No ! I could not endure such a cruel, cruel wrong. 
It would break my heart ! I should ever regret 
giving up my career for the degrading pettiness 
and ignominy of such a life !”' She allowed herself 
to be carried on in a frantic denunciation of evils 
never to befall her. Herbert in amazement had 
risen and stood behind her, clasping her head 
tenderly against his chest. In a soothing, caress- 
ing manner he stroked her forehead and patted her 
cheeks gently. 

“You are perfectly insured against any treatment 
from any source which could cause you one qualm 
of regret, or give you pain, dear one,'* he said with 
quiet assurance ; “ you will command, by your own 
exquisite womanly loveliness, the deference of 
all who may be privileged to know you. Be 
comforted, you are not well, sweetheart. Your 


CONNECTING LINKS. 


221 


imagination is overcast by some passing cloud 
to-day, to-morrow all will be - sunshine and joy. 
Come, sing for me.” 

The shadow passed, and her sunny face resumed 
its untroubled sweetness. She acquiesced in his 
request, and sitting down at the piano, sang her 
favourite aria from Ernani — the first role she 
had ever learned, and her favourite music. Her 
voice was rich in pathetic, dramatic fulness, touched 
by her mood. Herbert, rapt, listened deeply moved. 
Abruptly she stopped, swung round on the piano 
stool, without heeding Herbert’s plaudits, and 
started off on another suVject. 

“ Do you know, Herbert, I can never forget what 
Gustave Dore told me about his picture the 
Neophyte, and the sequel ! I felt it sink into my 
soul then. To-day, I feel in this great hard world, 
amid sage folk, with all their hardening experiences, 
sufferings, abnegations, wickedness, and crushed 
souls, much as did that fresh young Neophyte amid 
the old monks, whilst they thridded their rosary 
between their trembling fingers — old, foolish, totter- 
ing, senile, sardonic, crafty, two-faced religionists — 
whilst I, as he, poor simple Neophyte that I am, 
have said rashly. I’ll be one with you, and 
am terrified in their midst ! Then, Herbert, I 
wonder if some hapless day I too, like the other 
Neophyte, may not bemoan my lost life, my song- 
world ? These thoughts come, I cannot check 
them. ... I do not seek to foster them. I feel 
insensibly drawn by irresistible bonds to return to 


222 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


the intoxicating pomp and splendour, and once 
again lose myself, in the wild vertigo of my suc- 
cesses ! . . . My pulses rage wildly, making thrill 
every atom of my sentient being ! I feel like a 
captive straining to free myself from bondage. Oh ! 
Herbert ! Herbert ! save me from these thoughts. 
They dethrone my reason. I am so unhaypyy 
so very unhappy!** She sobbed as though her 
heart would break. 

The man was non-plussed. This was a revela- 
tion requiring more than casual consideration to 
deal with sagaciously. He could only fondle her, 
and affectionately urge some diversion to take her- 
self out of herself. They were both passionate 
equestrians, and he forthwith decided upon a ride 
in the Bois, 


CHAPTER XV. 


THE CONFESSION. 

“ But it’s strange. 

And oftentimes to soothe us to our harm, 

The instruments of darkness tell us truths | 

Win us with honest trifles, to betray ua 
In deepest consequences." 

R iding through the avenue of acacias, Garisse 
and Herbert met Count De La Rue, likewise 
on horse, taking, as he said, ‘‘a dash for diz-track- 
shun.’ He joined them with their permission, 
and felicitated himself upon the good luck which 
had thrown himself across their genial path, as he 
was “ possessed by a squadron of blue devils.” 

Jogging along at a rocking-horse pace, during 
the course of conversation Herbert intimated their 
intention to start almost immediately for the Orient. 

“ Madam is not well, and requires a change of 
scene and air.” 

An almost imperceptible wince was the only sign 
of surprise evinced by Count De La Rue at this 
announcement. He proposed, if entirely agreeable to 
them, he was strongly of the mind to join their party. 
For a long time he averred he had been extremely 
desirous of visiting the Orient. Heretofore he had 


224 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


beeu disinclined to set out alone, or to accept the 
indifferent companionship offered. 

“ But, Monsieur and Madam, if you will allow 
me, c'est une honne chance! Tres ravissant ! ” he 
concluded with French effusiveness. 

Clarisse, aglow with delight, for she liked the 
Count, said, with nai've impressiveness she always 
exhibited by the prospect of fresh pleasure : 

What a glorious chance for us to have your 
society. Monsieur ! I presume you will make some 
rich studies of the Orient? Just think, Monsieur, 
of the lovely women, their luscious complexions and 
great melting gazelle eyes, almond-shaped, like wan- 
ing moons; the dreamy languor in their movements, 
their tropical luxuriance, all set off by their pictur- 
esque apparel of magnificent stuffs so gorgeously 
embroidered. Living as they do in an atmosphere 
charged with subtle, intoxicating perfumes, the very 
thought of which makes my blood tingle, is it a 
wonder they are mystics ? The writhing, gliding 
Del Sartian gestures as they dance, accompanied by 
weird music, to which we can but contrast the 
noisy music and the tour de force of the modern 
ballet. I shall be fascinated by it all, I feel certain 
I shall. . . . Ah, Monsieur ! you will indeed, find 
great and novel art treasure to inspire you ! ” 

“ Possibly, Madam does not know, that my art 
aspirations are already gratified to the extreme, I 
may say finished ? I do not voyage there to paint, 
nor to procure material for future composition, au 
contraire, Madam, but to live and enjoy a life freed 
from the grovelling exigencies of my profession.” 


THE CONFESSION. 


225 


Clarisse shook her head incredulously. 

"‘We shall see, Monsieur, au contraire!'^ Then she 
turned to Herbert, “ Do you remember that extraor- 
dinary story of Tourgeniff s called ‘ The Song of 
Triumphant Love ’ ? It made an indelible impres- 
sion upon me. The unearthly marvels produced by 
the mystics, the violin playing, the diahlement of the 
music enticing the woman, and last, the restoration 
of the lover back to life by the Malay’s magic ! 

Dieu, how that story haunts me ! I seem to 
understand the resistless attraction of that fatal 
music ; but — but — someway I don’t comprehend 
why the husband killed the lover ! ” Herbert 
looked at her almost dumbfounded. Whatever 
could ail her ? 

“ Clarisse ! ” he exclaimed. 

“ Presto ! Herbert, see it’s all gone,” and she 
laughed in a musical, rippling way that made the 
very birds linger mid-air on motionless wings. 

Count De La Rue, not content to accept the happy 
coup Madam had so charmingly effected, renewed 
the topic. 

“ Madam, I confess I am also peculiarly inter- 
ested in those strange people and their weird cults. 
I am drawn to investigate the forms of pagan 
religion, which are far more ancient than those 
of Christianity.” Then he addressed himself to 
Herbert : “ Monsieur, it is to you I owe a vast 
obligation for having been the first source of any 
accurate knowledge I acquired of the Orient. 
Monsieur, as you are my savant, it is to you 
P 


226 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


I shall certainly look as my future mentor, when 
umbrageous occultism shall befog my comprehen- 
sion.” His whole manner was insinuative, his 
words struck Herbert’s ear unpleasantly. 

“ I protest, most positively, that each must make 
his or her own departure from the beaten paths and 
dogmas of Christianity, and draw their own personal 
deductions. I forswear any such prodigious re- 
sponsibility, and will not become spiritual linkman 
for any mortal.” 

“ For shame, Herbert ! to repudiate your follow- 
ers and devotees in this way. What will become 
of us ? ” petulantly said Clarisse. 

“ You must be your own dooms-men. I’ll throw 
no mysterious shuttle across yout looms, mainly 
because, for a fact, I’m so ignorant myself. How- 
ever, let’s have the good common sense to calmly 
await our arrival in the domain of this mooted 
mysticism. Let us see first if we care to pry into 
either the secrets of the life or the religion of 
those people. Their Nirvana may be uninteresting. 

“ Then, Monsieur Severance, I infer that you 
hold religion and life apart ? ” Count De La Rue 
spoke in a satirical tone, emitting between his 
closed teeth, which were exposed by the sneer that 
curled his lips, an unnatural chuckle. Hearing it, 
Clarisse turned suddenly and gazed at him. Dis- 
turbed and perplexed, she tried to grasp the under- 
current of the thought which could find expression 
in such a disagreeable act. 

“ Mon ami” retorted Herbert, I had no idea 


THE CONFESSION. 


227 


that you were so hypercritical as to the ethics of 
speech. Individuals and peoples do live without 
religion. You see enough of this sort of thing in 
France. Religion is a species of deportment. In 
fine,,! hold extremely peculiar views on these sub- 
jects — I mean life and religion. It would, indeed, 
be utterly impossible to clearly delineate to another’s 
comprehension my vagaries, should I expatiate 
thereupon for the stretch of four-and-twenty hours. 
Besides, they sink into insignificance when we look 
about and consider the beauties of nature with 
which we are surrounded.” 

De La Rue’s face at Herbert’s last words assumed 
an expression of annoyance. 

“ TienSj tiens, Count ! do be jolly ! We are out 
for pleasure, not for philosophy. Voild ! this is the 
Bois, not the Forum ! ” laughingly uttered Clarisse, 
as she swung her "whip-lash across her horse’s 
haunches and put him into a canter, followed by 
the others. 

“ Well, Dick, we three went to the accursed 
Orient. ... A week before the birth of our 
child, a cable announcing the serious illness of my 
father made it imperative that I should return 
without delay to America if I wished to see him 
alive. . . . With reluctance I committed Clarisse 
to the care of a physician in whom I had great con- 
fidence for his superior skill. . . . When I was 

on the eve of departure, her heart seemed wrung 
with such inordinate despair, I felt sorely shaken as 


228 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


to whether my duty lay in going to my father or in 
stopping with my wife. . . . Witnessing the dire 
strait in which I was plunged, she pluckily gathered 
a degree of self-control, and courageously declared 
that I must without a doubt go to my father. . . . 
This self-sacrifice on her part inspired me with 
renewed adoration for the brave little woman. 
I summoned Count De La Eue to my private room, 
to request at his hands the greatest favour I could 
possibly require from another man,” — the speaker 
drifted away for a moment, but with one of his 
characteristic right-abouts, resumed, — namely, to 
vigilantly protect and kindly minister to my 
precious wife during my absence. 

“ My God !* Dick, this worse than devil pledged 
himself under most solemn oath to accept the 
sacred charge. He avowed he would rather die 
than abuse or neglect the sacred token of con- 
fidence reposed by me in him. . . . Clarisse was 
not displeased when I communicated this step to 
her. She expressed gratitude for my consideration, 
extolled my forethought in planning for her well- 
being, and repeatedly thanked me for providing so 
tried a friend. — I must tell you, Dick, De La Eue 
had remained with us from the time we left 
France. — It would be a comfort for her to be able 
to call upon someone in my absence, whom I had 
selected, in whom I had confidence, whom she 
might trust as a brother. . . . 

When I arrived in New York harbour a cable- 
gram was placed in my hands, setting aside all my 


THE CONFESSION. 


229 


fears, ' Wife and daughter well.* ” Herbert Sever- 
ance’s eyes snapped, and his face was radiant as he 
looked at Dick, filled with the enthusiasm of an im- 
perishable memory. 

“ Dick, I fairly reeled with joy that day ! I was 
foolishly excited over the news, conducting myself 
in a noticeably extravagant fashion. There was 
something indescribable in the idea that I was a 
father, that Clarisse was a mother, awakening a con- 
sciousness of a- realm of feeling undiscovered hereto- 
fore. I kept straightening myself up to every 
speck of my height, tugged at my waistcoat, 
threw back my shoulders,' and breathed with an 
expansion and inflation of lungs most abnormal. 
. . . This comical sense of self-importance, that 
comes, I believe, only with the first-born, was felt 
so irresistibly within my heart, I wanted the whole 
world to be jubilant with me, and share my bliss. 

‘‘ Even then, Dick, it flashed across my elated brain 
that perhaps my daughter, then no older in hours 
than were you in years, and you, Dick, might some 
day be nearer and dearer than cousins ! 

“ I congratulated myself over the beneficence of 
God in sparing for the child her mother to care for 
her. Contrasting how different your fate, my dear 
boy, deprived at your birth of the tender love of a 
mother, and almost immediately after losing your 
father, I resolved on the prompting of these 
thoughts to redouble my care for you.” 

Uncle, I’m sure you did. You have been all 
the world to me,” fervently affirmed Dick. 


230 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


“ Soon my ecstatic bliss was beclouded by my 
father’s death. The circumstances were peculiar, 
involving a complicated lawsuit in the adjustment 
of his estate. This required my constant undivided 
personal attention for many months. I assure you, 
only the most stringent exercise of will kept me 
from frequently giving way to my yearning to return 
to my wife and child, and abandon the sordid law 
business. But my father’s honour was. threatened 
with impeachment if in litigation a celttain dubious 
transaction was not cleared up. This, and this only, 
kept me. . . . One day came the shocking news 
that our child had succumbed to some infantile 
malady, and died. My heart was wrenched with 
cruel poignancy. I could not rid myself from the • 
pity I felt for my poor, dear Clarisse, away, far away, 
alone in her grief amongst strangers. It would 
surely shatter her health and spirits. . . . The tenor 
of her letters became constrained. I experienced 
renewed solicitude. . . . She never alluded to 
Count De La Rue, in her late epistles. . . . He had 
long ceased to write. . . . Could it be that he had 
grown weary of his charge through my protracted 
absence ? If so, then indeed Clarisse was alone. 
... I refrained from asking her, dreading to re- 
vive some regret. . . . Tormented by these imag- 
inary afflictions, I concluded at any cost, to imperil 
if needs be, everything, and fly to her side at once. 

“ At this juncture I received a letter, brighter in 
its import, stating, through Count De La Rue’s 
advice, and accepting his most unselfish escort, she ^ 


THE CONFESSION. 


231 


was on the eve of making a journey to Switzerland, 
where she would wait for me. This partially 
relieved my anxiety. I felt quietea to think 
Count De La Rue had been loyal to me, and 
foitiiwilli wiole him in a most grateful strain. 

. . , Presently I was at liberty to rejoin my 
wife. I found her sadly altered mentally, her 
exqmsito physical beauty faded, although to 
me enhanced by a touch of sadness I attributed to 
the sorrow of a mother’s heart over her bereave- 
ment. Her praises of De La Rue’s abnegating 
devotion to her during her illness and subsequent 
afflictions, were without bounds. In an inexplicable 
way I felt displaced by him, found his constant 
presence in our midst was marring our unity and 
contentment. ... In truth, inadvertently, Olarisse 
had contracted a habit of deferring to him with an 
innocent disregard of my rights to be consulted in 
our own personal affairs, or, as it were, to be master 
in my own house. Occasionally she would realise 
the audaciousness of her act. My ensuing con- 
fusion would sting her with deep mortification, 
then she would try in every way to soothe the 
wound inflicted upon my dignity. However, there 
was undeniably some subtle and harmful estrange- 
ment between us that nothing could gloss over. 
Its existence awed me. . . . De La Rue readily 
sensed the situation, and, with praiseworthy tact, 
he decided to journey to another point without us. 
. , . After his departure, Clarisse became as one 
in a dream, was absent-minded, did everything 


232 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


with an unconcealed forced effort. . . . What it 
all meant, what it portended, I was perplexed 
to conceive. To my oft-repeated questions if she 
were well and happy, ever came the unqualified 
response : 

‘ Yes, perfectly.’ ” 

Herbert Severance paused so long and appeared 
to lapse into an unconsciousness, Dick touched 
his arm. 

“Well, uncle, continue.” 

“ Oh, I beg your pardon, Dick, I was thinking 
so rapidly, I forgot to speak. Furthermore, Dick, 
it requires a tremendous effort for me to unbosom 
myself, I’m of a very reticent nature. However, 
ril proceed. . , . For a long time I refrained 
from asking her about her child, whom, as you 
know, was born and died during my absence. 
Finally, with an aching heart one day, when she 
appeared more abstracted than ever, I ventured to 
enquire. Bursting out in tears she stammered, 
between sobs, ‘Don’t speak of her! For God’s 
sake, spare me that agony 1 ’ I never mentioned 
the subject after. . . . 

“ My business agents clamoured ungently for 
me to come to America. Clarisse pled with me 
to permit her to remain where she was until my 
return — we had gone back to France. She pre- 
ferred the entailed solitude rather than to be sub- 
jected, while she w’as mourning the loss of our 
child, to the trying ordeal of meeting or mingling 
with strangers. There was nothing unreasonable 


THE CONFESSION. 


233 


in this. I consented. . . . Without her knowledge 
I sent a messenger to Count De La Rue to explain 
the circumstances of the case, at the same time, 
requesting him as a trusted friend, to once again 
assume the charge of my beloved wife, during the 
period, long or short, of my enforced absence. . . . 
Instead of committing his answer to the messenger, 
but, with what I deemed a mark of rare delicacy 
and proof of his attached friendship, he forthwith 
rejoined us, and personally assured me, that he con- 
sidered I had conferred upon him the greatest 
possible honour by holding him in such high 
esteem. He accepted with pleasure. . . . His 
acquiescence was most gracious. I trusted him. 
. . . From the moment that he reappeared on 
the scene, Clarisse became freakish, disposed to 
unnatural moods, captious in the extreme. One 
time she would almost make up her mind to accom- 
pany me, in the next breath she would settle back 
in her desire to tarry where she was. Finally, she 
concluded the last day before I sailed, that the time 
would pass quickly if she had fresh diversions. 
She resolved, after my departure, to return to India, 
and once again renew her erratic study of Theosophy , 
a subject De La Rue had delved into with zealous 
fanaticism. ... I was, I assure you, more than 
happy to perceive that she still possessed sufficient 
latent interest in any topic, whatsoever, to lift her 
out of her deplorable moods — moods which were 
making rapid invasion upon her former sunny 
temper, making her very morbid. . , . Dick, not 


234 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


only did 1 sanction, but I strenuously urged her to 
pursue a course which, heaven help me, Dick, ulti- 
mately blasted our happiness ! — cost her her 
life ! ” For a moment overwhelmed, he could not 
proceed. Gaining self-mastery, he resumed in a 
rapid, cold way, eager to have done with his recital. 

“ By a concatenation of circumstances, untoward, 
unavoidable, I was detained in America eighteen 
months, when I received this document, partially 
penned by Clarisse, and finished under a solemn 
pledge at her deathbed by an old Abbd . . . She 
had returned alone to Switzerland.’ 

Herbert Severance drew from the breast pocket 
of his coat, and handed to Dick, the square packet 
he had taken from his desk the previous day, and 
covering bis face with his hands, said, Dick, read 
it for yourself, but remember, Dick : 

‘The heinous and despiteful act ' 

Of Satan, done in Paiadise, 

Was known 

Tn Heaven.’*’ 

Dick, all interest, perused in silence the much 
worn and tear-stained screed written m French. 

“ Hotel du Pont, 

“Interlaken, Switzerland, 186 — . 

“Herbert, my own wronged one,— Even now when guilt 
makes it inipos.sil)le to continue my identity as your wife, my 
soul is steeped in rankling bitterness, and I cannot find words 
to express. If I could be true, be honest, and still keep your 
love, merit your idolatry, God knows, I should be freed from 
daily purgatory. 


THE CONFESSION. 


285 


" Alas, alas, I no longer can look in your dear eyes without 
the unmistakable realisation of my own ignominy — of my own 
sin ! Well-beloved, since my sinning, when I have spoken to 
you, my words have fallen harshly upon my own ears as a 
self-reproach, for they were but shallow guises to hide the lie 
— the shameful lie I live ! 

“Never, no never, never can I again kiss you, feeling as I 
do that my lips have been defiled by another. 

“My beloved, the sweetness, and joy of love, have been 
ruthlessly dissipated, through my own moral weakness, 
through my insatiate fondness of flattery, through my love of 
power. 

“Could there be a more pitiable retribution, than that, 
falling upon my wicked head ? Think of it, think of it now, 
when I am iU unto death, now, when I yearn for your tender 
care, that the only reparation I can possibly make in any way 
for ray wilful sinning, is to leave you ! To renounce my 
wifehood ! My God ! think of it ! think of it ! Yes, leave 
you ! yes, suifer a cruel retribution, deprived of all I have 
so wantonly forfeited — die — die — alone — abandoned to fate. 
Yet, I dare not pretend that I do not justly merit it all ! 

“ Herbert, I must confess, that, actuated by the false advice 
of another, I averred the death of our little one. Herbert^ 
for God’s sake forgive me — it was a lie!^\ 

“She still lives. Yes, lives above all future want, above 
struggle such as I have known. . . . Endowed with the 
bulk of my fortune, she is to be brought up in the belief 
that she is an orphan, under the supervision of the Lady 
Superior of a certain convent in France, but not to take the 
veil, nor be suaded to the religion. 

“An Abb^, I have great faith in as a world- wise honest 
preceptor, counselled me to this course, knowing my error in 
life, as the only way to spare the innocent child from shame 
and sorrow. 

“ The deception has been perpetrated for so long a time, 
certain intricacies have gradually entwined themselves to 
clothe with diflSculty its undoing whilst I live, if ever. Alas, 


236 


HERBEKT SEVERANCE. 


repentance does not bring back the wrong. There is no real 
absolution, none, none. 

“Oh Herbert, Herbert, your generous, noble, trustful 
nature, allowing me utter freedom of action ; my foolish way- 
ward vacillating character, so deluded, so charmed by the 
brilliancy of public iclat^ public success, are conjointly at the 
bottom of my downfall. Like a moth I flew straight into the 
flame of self-destruction ! 

“ Everything I cherished most has been blasted, cruelly 
crushed. . . . Stage frippery I thought, in my delusion, life’s 
reality. , . . The singular psychological inOuences of sounds, 
sights, odours, and individuals, have ever, as you know, swayed 
me in an exaggerated, irresistible manner ; have drawn me 
with loadstone attraction. Often I’ve been reluctant, yet they 
were more forcible than my irresolute will, and enticed me into 
avenues full of dangers, which I divined were lurking for me. 

“Oh, why are we poor mortals so blind, so stupidly 
heedless, till we stumble into a yawning pit we might 
have easily perceived, had we paused at the perilous crisis 
but one moment to reflect ? Why are we not gifted like the 
dumb brutes to scent the track of our enemies ? 

“For instance, the marvellous mysticism of the Buddha 
adepts, you so inconsequently brought me to know, with all 
their strange unwritten doctrines, fascinated and enslaved 
me beyond resistance. 

“ I wrought myself up to the belief, that I, too, possessed a 
gift of transcendental powers. I grew to believe I had a 
divine right, to sacrifice everything to the higher development 
of those powers, and yet commit no sin to myself, or to 
another. Such bewilderment of doctrine, a doctrine all very 
well in itself ; — it taught me in very many ways a lofty up- 
reaching — but, you must know, another also professed to 
seek the same sublimated estate — a devil incarnate ! who 
only sought thereby to gain control over me, for my utter 
ruin ! Presently, this man became my guide, and I witlessly, 
whilst waiting for you, fell his too ready victim. . . . 

“ Herbert, I must tell you the story, I want you to know 
it all, to pity your lost one. 


tHE CONFESSlOl^. 


237 


“ Into his interpretation of the esoteric doctrine, he linked 
gross animalisms, foreign to the cult in its own purity ; these, 
in my blind belief, never were repellant to me, nay, never 
so much as appeared either strange or of evil tendency. . . . 
By slow degrees arrived the time when complete surrender of 
my soul, of my body, was the last oflSce requisite, according 
to this devil’s teachings, for me to attain a crucial point 
whereby I should become as one elect, endowed with marvel- 
lous attributes of the most potent nature. 

“For days I did not walk, I seemed to float in a mystic 
atmosphere through space, above the earth. I could not eat, 
I seemed to imbibe nourishment from some supernatural 
source. Nor could I sleep. . . . Whilst in a hysterical semi- 
religious organism, a species of abnormal ecstasy, I listened 
to this evil man’s vile teachings which he so cleverly var- 
nished with a film of truth ! Listened ! Heeded ! 

“ So gradually and craftily had this false apostle enticed 
me, that I stood, so to speak, upon the very platform of 
virtue’s guillotine, ready, eager to place my head upon the 
block, believing I was hedged about by some supernatural 
power, and remote from any mundane harm. . . . My moral 
sight was so obscured, he made me a convert to the belief 
that, yielding to his amorous proposals, was an act beyond my 
own volition, impelled, exacted by high spiritual dictates! . . . 

“J/y God I After the scales dropped from my eyes^ 1 was 
ruined^ deiikdy for ever more^ without the pale of retraction^ 
— too late ! too late ! lost for ever / 

“ Into my distraught ears he poured his honied poison ; 
talked of Fate, recounted the story of the picture Souvenir ; 
how the vision of my face had haunted him day and night 
ever since ; how there had sprung up in his heart the desire 
to inspire in me an attachment, a love to match his passion ; 
how he had regarded you with jealous frenzy ; how he 
abided his time to avenge himself against all that had robbed 
him of me, his fate^ his destiny. 

“ The favoured opportunity came for him when I made eager 
search for the philosophy of the consecrated eternals, and in 
my desire for a comprehension of the duties required of 


•238 


HERl?Enr SEVERANCE. 


adepts. Once I became his victim, all my aspirations for the 
higher, better, sublimate life were sardonically scoffed by this 
scor/tiou, this trickster. He was earth-earthy. 

“ Despite his baseness, now known to me, there were times 
when his great welling, brown eyes became wine-coloured, 
then 1 lurid like tiger’s eyes ; anon, when steadfastly fixed 
up- *11 me, were imbued with an incomparable potency, drawing 
me like a loadstone across a room to sit beside him, regardless, 
oblivicius to all appearances or to the comments evoked. He 
gloried in a public display of his domination over me with 
shameless flagrancy. It was so cruel, so cruel. 

“ Sometimes at night I have waked with a sudden start, 
like one out of a hideous dream, who feels himself hurled 
through endless space to certain destruction. Through the 
wavy uncertain half-light I have experienced an over- 
powering force, concentrated upon my brow between my 
eyes, like a magnet held there, and, by slow degrees, by an 
uninterpretable process, visions appeared so real, so distinct, 
I dared not deny their actuality. I was led to attribute this 
state to something more subtle even than clairvoyance, for 
then it was I knew his innermost thoughts, his most secret 
wish. He was the positive^ I, alas ! was the sensitive. But it 
was too profound for my intellect. Ego., Karma^ Astral Body., 
and all the other states were too obscure for me to comprehend 
or solve. I beUeved blindly. 

“After fearful conflicts, and mature decision on my part 
to pursue a course, alas ! when he conspired to have it other- 
wise, I have helplessly changed as a weather-vane in a 
shifting wind. 

“ Now it is eternally at an end. Thank God, the estrange- 
ment is complete, he dare not approach me — never, never 
more ! 

“Occasionally, all his machinations in false occultisms 
failed to influence me, then he would call into play every 
artifice to enspell me. . . . The charm — a vague one I never 
could solve — of his voice usually affected me. The moment 
he sang some favourite strain, like one spell-bound I willingly 
acceded to his most unreasonable request. A thousand times 


THE CONFESSION. 


239 


has he recalled ‘The Song of Triumphant Love, twitting me 
with its partial verity in my case. 

“Hours of recrimination came — hours when I berated 
him for the calamity his accursed acts wrought upon me He 
always made ready answer to all my reproaches, to my 
regrets, to my threats that I should forthwith confess our 
mutual perfidy to you, and ^sue for mercy According to 
him, by a course so mad I should make you, you, whom I 
loved so truly at heart, suffer without excusable reason. Thus 
he held me in check, this wretch^ because he possessed an 
intense magnetic power over me. It was strange — it was 
strange. 

“ Like one overwhelmed by the phantoms of an incubus, I 
have struggled desperately in vain to free myself. I found 
ample apology for all my acts so long as a Platonic relation- 
ship only existed, but from the momeiic that I was misled 
into a criminal association, and became his victim, from the 
moment the continual necessity for deception ind subterfuge 
sprang up, 1 felt my reason was being dethroned. I could 
not endure the constant shamefaced Ues I was thereafter 
driven to enact, to utter, in.trying to hide my guilt I seemed 
eternally possessed by evil spirits bent upon sinking me hope- 
lessly beyond redemption. I tried to solve the appalling 
power — I tried to know why 1 could one time have my 
heart replete with contentment and joy in your presence, and 
feel I could not exist out of your sight, and yet another 
time be led like an unthinking child in an opposite direction 
by that devil. Compromise myself — dishonour your name ! — 
my thoughts were plunged in mazy speculations. I was un- 
settled. Fate I fate I planned, with sinister intent, an evil 
destiny for me. 

“Oh, Herbert! Herbert! when ^ you have caressed me, 
called me pure, beautiful, and noble, my heart has risen in 
my throat ready to break. Countless times I have almost 
emerged from the blackness of my deception— have been 
tempted to tear off the hideous, suffocating mask, and disclose 
all, all, the very worst to you ! Startled in contemplating 
the enormity of my sin, as I would seek language to divulge 


240 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


it to yon, cowardice, pride, shame have united to hinder me. 
So is it, I have continued to smile falsely while you were 
heaping coals of fire upon my guilty head, by your loving 
expressions of adoration. 

“ I have prayed imploringly for strength to avert the over- 
ruling weakness of my nature. Do not think I did not 
resent and rebel with spirit against the odious tyranny this 
wretched man swayed over me. The conflict was ceaseless. 
Strange, too, although I was so wantonly trampling upon 
your confidence, upon your honour, upon your love, the mere 
thought of giving you up for another, or that you might 
repudiate me, always agitated me with jealous fury ! . . . I 
have tried — God knows I have — to stay this disaster, but all to 
no avail. I was in a toil ! I could not extricate myself ! I 
dare not implore your help ! . . . 

“That unfortunate night at the Palace of the Tuileries 
planted in my breast the tare that I have since reaped. . . . 
Vanity, it was my curse. 

“ Alas, alas ! we blind mortals know not the danger 
overshadowing our paths, until the blow, a shock like a 
thunderbolt out of a clear, serene sky, shatters our ideal 
selves ! I was, indeed, but a cockle shell floating on the 
crest of every bounding wave, to be crushed on some unseen 
rock mid-ocean. 

“ Not knowing much of the variances in individual char- 
acters, having no real experience, I found myself led on the 
quicksands of curiosity, tormented by all sorts of morbid 
thoughts. Constantly, like a whisperfrom another self came the 
thoughts, do other persons feel as I do ? Is the love bestowed 
upon me by one heart an accident? Would other hearts beat as 
fervently and as devotedly for me, and mine for others, if 
circumstances had by chance been different ? 

“ My stability was awry. I knew not my own disposition, 
nor my own tendencies. Every phase of life and character 
contemplated by me for the first time was enigmatical. . . . 
This fact appeared to muffle my conscience. . . . Each day 
developed some trait in myself heretofore unknown. I was 
at worst only a natural creature actuated by elements and 


THE CONFESSION. 


241 


stirroiindings in no sense phenomenal. . . . Spring, summer, 
autumn, and winter resided within my being. Although at 
wide variance one with the other, each season was true to 
itself, and, as a totality, I cannot, try as I may, even now but 
believe that they all harmonised in accordance with certain 
inscrutable laws of nature. Alas, if I could have known how to 
govern myself, all my present misery might have been spared ! 

“ Constantly craving excitement, diversion, change of scene, 
change of companionship, change of thought, I fretted under 
the humdrum of seven days alike. What was deficient in 
myself I instinctively reached out for, and often found in 
others. Different people aflfected me differently. Some, as 
excitants, intoxicated me until I reached a delirium of 
enthusiasm, when I could surpass my greatest attainments ; 
others, as depressants, hung about me like millstones, and 
weighted the hour with hopeless despair ; then it was, all melody 
and song would be over-sounded by a dirgeful miserecordia ! 
Again, others were antagonists, every overture chafed and 
repulsed me ; and again, others, as affinities, tallied my every 
thought and every emotion ; and yet, again, others, as vapid 
indifferents, could in no way stir me to like or dislike, so 
utterly nil were they to me. 

“You remember that the French savants used to call me 
a sensitive. And so at times I was, for I could sense and feel 
the thoughts and feelings of those with whom I came in con- 
tact, to such an extent I have often found every fibre in my 
body became tremulous. I have hotly flushed crimson over 
an inner consciousness of their thoughts, as though I was a 
party to their inception. 

“ Ob, my dear Herbert, I am confessing all this to you, — 
you, well-beloved, who are so magnanimous and just above all 
things, — confessing my faults, my sins, to you in the hope 
that you, whom I have so injured and defrauded, may judge 
my shortcomings with clemency, and will find deep down in 
your heart some slight excuse for me. 

“Had you only taken me at once to America after I 
renounced the opera, and kept me in ignorance of the weird, 

Q 


242 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


occult theories, you were cool-headed enough to investigate 
without prejudice to yourself, but, alas, which I could not 
fathom nor resist, and became engulfed in ; had you, after 
our marriage, strenuously urged me at any cost to refuse the 
tempting oflfei'S of sycophants, who allured me to continue in 
my profession ; had you kept me away from the seductive 
influences of my old life, perhaps, in spite of all, perhaps, the 
good that was in me might have prevailed. 

‘‘ AJy explicit command is that la petite Clarisse shall never 
enter a proftssional career^ never^ never / ... 1 should rise out 
of my grave as a Nemesis, to haunt anyone who should so far 
betray my dying behest as to countenance or assist her to a 
public career, notwithstanding she may be endowed with 
unparalleled gifts. . . . The life is too hazardous. . . . The 
association false, pernicious. . . . Ruinous. ... I pray God 
that the fortune I leave her may not carry a stigma with it 
to ov’ershadow her life with a curse ! 

“ Herbert ! Herbert ! forgive me. Forget your unhappy 
one’s errors. Try to make new relations in life to compensate 
for all out of which I have so wickedly wronged you. I 
swear I did not know the enormity of my acts until too late. 

“ Should you live until, and should Clarisse live to reach 
her eighteenth year, she wull be taken to you in America. 
Guide, cherish, protect our child. Let not the blight of my 
wrong-doings touch her. I pray that she may come to you 
a pearl without a flaw. 

“ Feeling, as I do, unworthy of this child, who is as a God- 
sent blessing,— unwilling to live and be deprived of her 
innocent companionship, denied her filial, reverential love, — 
I aver I feel no sorrow in facing grim death. Death, which 
once I would have been mad with fright to contemplate, is 
now acceptable— will forgive me! I implore it, with 
ihe ice upon my breath. Herbert.^ forgive me^ let not damna- 
tion black my sepulchre ! 

“ I shall not live to know from your own lips, nor to receive 
vour written assurance. No, I cannot, I cannot ! neverthe- 
less something tells me that you will not refuse my last 
lequest, hence it is that death will be glorified by the 


243 


if' 


THE CONFESSION. 


greatest earthly blessing. . . . My God ! the thought kills , 
me with unspeakable rapture ! Forgiven ! Forgiven ! . . . 

“ I trust you may have no solicitude for my material 
welfare. Every possible care and comfort have been mine. 

. . . All ministrations have been to no purpose. The fatal 
poison of wrong-doing knows no cure. . . . The physician, 
in answer to my questions, after I told him I must know 
unequivocally the truths for I must write most important 
papers, said plainly that I had no time to lose. ... I rejoice 
withal that the end is nigh. . . . Certain papers, officially 
executed, will be sent to you. . . . One word, well- 
beloved, for I am going. ... I entreat you to ignore the 
existence of him who has so defrauded you. . . . 

“ The air is filled with swelling voices— list ! — the anthems 
of the wind — the light — the night — moaning dirges — 



Er-na-ni! Er-na-ni, in-vo - laml al - I’abboii’e-to 


“ All — all — reflecting the eternal spaces. 



E - den un E - den di de-li 


qne 


“ Hark ! hark ! there comes a joyous jubilant burst of 
chorus. . . . What rapture 1 see ! see ! the flowers swayed 
by the gentle breezes seem to have a magic thrill ... a 
music in their very perfume ! Oh ! how beautiful — the 
light — the dawn of eternity comes stranded through the 
blinds, in slender rays, like golden harp strings. . . . 

I am rocked in a supernal rhapsody. ... Oh God ! Oh 
God ! how I have gone astray ! Hadst Thou no pity ? Oh ! 
misery 1 misery 1 . . . Why didst Thou not save me? ... . 
What right had I to sin ? . . . Hark ! the music comes— 
the spheres roll on in majesty of sound. 



244 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


, “ Yes, yes, the poor neophyte remembers the joys, the joys 

he fore-swore, wlTen he took the vows . . . bis life — one 
chagrin. ... Go ! go ! you are wicked, designing— leave 
me ! leave me ! . . . Help ! help ! help ! . . . See him ! 
Look ! look ! . . . There ! there ! ” . . . See his eyes are 
cups of ruby poison. . . . Thanks, Herbert ; thanks, 
beloved. I knew you would succour me from that devour- 
ing vampire. . . . Oh, oh ! the lie kills me the lie 

... No, no, no ! never sing. . , . Laurels are silver thorns — 
they crucify. . . . Take me away ! Take me away ! the 
applause frightens me ! Succour ! succour ! Yes, yes, I know 
it, I know it ; who breaks pays — the penalty — the penalty 
for my sin is my life — my 1-i-f-e — life — li ” 

“ Life’s frail tenure finally snapped. More beautiful than 
ever, in the enhallowed sanctity of death, was this truly 
penitent one. More sinned against than sinning, she departed 
from this world of confusion and sorrow. If hearts break 
ever, then her heart broke. She was forgiven on earth, she 
must have been forgiven in heaven. 

“ Abbe Christopher,” 

“ Sworn to before the American Consul, Interlaken, 
Switzerland, 186 — , as the last words of Clarisse Arditte 
Severance, who died of fever, etc., etc.” 

“ Witnessed by ' 

“H . . . . W . . . . 
“T . . . . S . . . . ” 


Seal. 

When Dick finished perusing the document, 
he looked up at his uncle, much moved, and said : 

Well, uncle, in what manner did you punish 
the perfidious Count ? ” 


THE CONFESSION. 


245 


" Ah, Dick, the old foolish method. Sought 
him out, fought a duel, both of us badly scratched^ 
seconds satisfied. We parted presumably to lose 
sight of each other for ever. ... I looked care- 
fully into my wife’s death, traced our child’s retreat 
to France, and concluded, at all sacrifices to my 
feelings, to follow out as nearly as possible the 
mother’s wishes ; returned to America a sadder 
but a wiser man ; centred all my hopes upon you, 
my boy, and upon my daughter should she live. Dick, 
now you understand something of the magnitude 
of my horror and my vexation when* you announced 
coolly your interest in a gifted vocalist. I detest 
the 'profession. It is perdition to most of its 
votaries, . . . Then, too, Dick, my daughter 
has come to America. She will be established 
here with me in her own home this very week. 
You can well comprehend how your avowal that 
you knew the daughter of the model of the picture 

Souvenir startled me. Dick, what does it 
<1 ** 

mean ? 

‘‘ What does it mean ? My dear uncle. I’ll tell 
you exactly what it means. The young girl I’m 
interested in, the young lovely pure girl forsooth 
I’m madly in love with, I now know veritably is 
'your daughter,'* 

** But, Dick, the marvellous voice, what of that ? 
And the critic's opinion ? ” 

That, in the main, goes for nothing. Have no 
fears, uncle.” They embraced one another with 
intense fervour, overcome by the climax which 


246 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


had so happily terminated all reason for harsh 
rebuke or resentment on either side. 

Dick, Tm overjoyed ! This pays me back 
trebly for every jot of unhappiness bred of my 
misgivings.” 

“Uncle, I've not dared openly to declare my 
love to Clarisse, but I dare believe it is tacitly 
taken for granted. Have I insured the guardian’s 
consent ? ” 

“ Consent ! Yes, a thousand times. I am im- 
patient to settle the unexpected, and make quite 
sure I’m not ‘deluded. Clarisse shall come home 
this very day, Dick, if you are well enough to 
absent yourself for a while. I must turn you out 
bag and baggage. We must refrain from shocking 
her sensitive nature, and we must not subject her 
rudely to a violent surprise. The cat. Master Dick, 
must come out of the bag in good order.” Herbert 
Severance was rubbing his hands with delight, and 
a trifle prone to drop into platitudes. However, 
Dick’s joy asserted itself, and drowned his uncle 
in the ascendency for audience. 

“Good and gracious God, how can I ever be 
thankful enough to the fate awarding me such a 
heavenly blessing ? The thought seems to mock 
me with some delusion. It is too ecstatic to 
believe ! Uncle, let me henceforth aid you to bury 
in oblivion all past sorrows, all past apprehensions 
concerning Clarisse and your humble servant. If 
Clarisge should reciprocate my love, we will try 
to make you as happy as oar selves,** There 


THE CONFESSION. 


247 


was something truly very fine in this touch of 
nature. 

Dick was undergoing a transformation in his 
condition, forgetting his recent illness. He was 
yielding to a species of mind-cure too subtle to be 
scoffed at or resisted. 

Before many hours elapsed, with the doctors 
sanction, Dick departed. Herbert Severance lost 
no time in sending word to Clarisse, that if con- 
sonant with her pleasure, he would send the 
carriage for herself and friend towards evening. 


CHAPTER XVL 


THE UNEXPECTED. 


“Heaven sometimes hedges a rare character about with un- 
gainliness and odium, as the burr that prptects the fruit.'* 


ERBERT SEVERANCE’S retrospection, fol- 



J — L lowing as the reflex of his conversation with 
Dick, was far from comforting or agreeable. Had 
he not, after all, witlessly played the role of shirk 
and coward ? No denying that he had permitted 
all these years to roll around without evincing 
proper paternal interest in his daughter, — that is 
to say, personal interest. As a stickler for duty, 
how could he* ever evade the verdict, that, all things 
considered, it was his prime duty to have at least 
personally acquainted himself, not delegated his 
duty to agents. He alone should have settled 
upon the manner of her instruction, and selected 
the tutors who were to educate her. He should 
have known who were her associates, what her 
surroundings. After all, he might have ascertained 
with little trouble all these points. How blind he 
had been. 

To be sure, he educed one meagre grain of con- 
solation from the fact that he had kept inviolable 


THE UNEXPECTED. 


249 


his wife’s dying behest. Ah ! but then from a 
rational standpoint, should such a dying request 
be held fast to ? On its very face the answer 
could be but negative. Had it not been written 
during fevered delirium, previous to dissolution? 
She was avowedly conscious that death was fast 
taking place, she must have acted under an excit- 
able stress, which heeded not the full sense of the 
impracticable covenants she was exacting ; there- 
fore, was it not clearly th ' act of a man of common 
sense, in the unpertuibed enjoyment of reason, to 
disregard the letter of the charge, when not in 
accordance with the exigencies of life’s more in- 
sistent demands for the living ? 

After all, had he not owed to the living, to 
his daughter, a duty paramount to the foolish, 
sentimental, half- superstitious reverence that bad 
prompted adherence to the wishes of the dead, — the 
dead, who could have taken no cognizance of the 
mundane things yet to come ? His wife, there was 
no denying, had been in death’s grip ; she was at 
the time swayed by personalities, and incited by an 
exaggerated distortion of bitter events flitting 
through her brain. 

Ah,” murmured he, “ Emerson is correct, 
* The way to mend the bad world is to create the 
right world.* ** 

This he resolved to do as best he could, by 
way of atonement. 

He quailed to think that he might, in his re- 
trievement, possibly be compelled to make ac- 


250 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


knowledgments to Clarisse, this young mettlesome 
girl, that obviously were not creditable to his own 
manliness. . . . Happy thought ! Why, then, 
should he reveal such dubious acts, which had 
long since outstripped the past, which had offered 
the conditions upon which he had predicated his 
right to act ? 

Alack, alack I seen through the dim vista of the 
by-gone, despite the dint of all his reasoning, he 
himself could not now to-day find warrantable 
apology for his course. He had sinned. This 
remorse was retributive. 

One thing he resolved, to refrain from repining. 
He would consult Dick as to the feasibility or strict 
necessity of enlightening Clarisse as to her parent- 
age, or other complicated points, at least during his 
own life. His moral cowardice made him flinch. 
He cast about like a very weakling for a foothold, 
excused his present want of backbone in thinking 
it but proper to shuffle off from his own shoulders 
upon Dick^s, future responsibility. 

“ In all probability Dick will be, and soon, 
Clarisse’s husband, therefore it is but fair to consult 
him — and without loss of dignity to myself — on a 
matter that virtually will concern the young couple 
far more than it does myself.” 

How he shambled. This moral problem teased 
him with greater perplexity than any legal case he 
had advocated or been pitted against during his 
seventeen years* practice at the bar. Finally, as a 
rally to himself, he exclaimed half aloud : 


THE UNEXPECTED. 


251 


Well, well, man, why borrow trouble ? Once 
Clarisse is habilitated, with all her personal rights, 
in her home, — which from the outset she shall be 
made to understand is hers beyond dispute, — then 
I may perceive a fair open way to square the 
angularities which now obtrude on all sides.” 
His words however did not tally with his mood. 

In spite of his reasoning, the old sorrow was 
vividly underlying his present thoughts. Anew the 
old wound seemed to be freshly torn open, bleeding 
and paining as of yore. An avenging conscience 
was prodding his heart. De La Rue, the perfidious 
scoundrel who had pirated his happiness, was the 
sole mark for his deep-rooted ire. His lips com- 
pressed, with resentment he struck his desk with 
clenched fists. 

Yes, as there is a God in heaven, I swear, if 
the venomous reptile still lives, I shall essay his 
life.'* After this ejaculation he lapsed into an 
ominous silence, eyes bent upon space, following the 
provoked thoughts. 

Yes, day and night until death he vowed to 
himself, if needs be, to ransack the universe for this 
wretched desecrator. He must, he should have 
substantial revenge. He had been too long quies- 
cent, but now the time had come when his honour, 
his dead wife’s wrongs must be avenged. Aye, did 
not his daughters future demand such at his 
hands ? The Mosaic Law was good. Besides, De 
La Rue could only be regarded in the light of a 
wild beast ; he deserved to be hunted down with 
a pack of bloodhounds. 


252 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


So was it that the embers which smouldered all 
these years had been fanned into a raging fire by 
the recent recital he had made to Dick, and 
heightened by his subsequent contemplation. 
Eesolving to be a law unto himself, his thoughts 
took another turn. He mused, profoundly wrapt. 

What could Dick have meant concerning the 
marvellous voice of the young girl he professed 
interest for ? Misery of miseries ! was it not likely 
that his daughter had inherited her mother’s fatal 
gift ? The thought agitated him vastly. Suppose, 
as a hateful hypothesis upon which to base a new 
horror, that the girl was bent on following her 
inborn proclivities, and such led her to the stage, 
of what avail could he dare hope his interference 
would be to check her? If a passion with her, 
feminine obstinacy might tend to baffie his best 
intentions toward the promotion of her welfare, for 
he had no established claim upon her obedience. 
All these ideas eddied around in his disquieted 
brain to a focal point. 

Nothing could he settle until he saw Dick. An 
explanation was yet due him from his nephew re- 
lative to the honest stand he had assumed, and 
which led up to and eventuated his laying bare the 
long buried sorrows of his own life. 

He felt almost betrayed. His speculations were 
not to be downed, or bade to wait tranquilly ; they 
would fluctuate from this to that uncertainty. The 
black shuttle kept flying across the woof of thought. 

Truly, Dick had admitted the identity of the 


THE UNEXPECTED. 


253 


girl he was enamoured of as one with his own 
daughter ; and yet all was veiled in by a general 
mystification that must be dispelled, cost what it 
might. Developments in this case could not be 
rushed to a conclusion by a personally instituted 
referee. Wait he must, it was so difficult, yet im- 
perative. 

Practical man that he indisputably was in his 
everyday round of life, he had entertained mis- 
givings lest servants' vague gossip might reach 
Clarisse's ears, and set her to ponder on topics he 
had rather she knew nothing whatever about ; 
therefore he had prudently installed new servants 
before she should arrive, from the housekeeper to 
the scullery-maid. There was but one exception to 
the clean sweep, which he made in favour of his own 
body-servant, Jones, who had been in his service 
ever since he kept house ; a discreet, faithful servant 
not easily replaced, and thoroughly above the tattle 
of the servants* hall. 

J ones is my factotum ; without him my house- 
hold heretofore would have been as a brick without 
straw, a wheel without tire ; everything would have 
wee-wawed out of time and tune and place,” were 
the introductory words he bestowed upon Jones, 
when he was informing Clarisse of the qualifica- 
tions of the corps of servants at her command, 
finishing up his remarks with "A superior servant, 
my child, who will prove a useful adjunct as major- 
domo to you, as you must be an inexperienced 
chatelainJ* 


254 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


When Herbert Severance’s carriage drove np 
Washington Square to Mrs Bleecker’s residence, 
Clarisse heard the rumbling of the bowling wheels, 
and the ringing cadence of the high-stepping horses 
hoofs as they came dashing with speed, noisily over 
the cobble stones ; it was music to her ears more 
entrancing than any she had ever listened to before. 
She was going home. She should so soon realise 
her dream, and know all about her parents. She 
could receive Dick openly as a suitor, if her guar- 
dian only approved. 

In an undertone to herself she said : ** Of course 
he must approve, for how could the most punctil- 
ious person living find a single flaw in Dick’s 
character, or even his appearance, to disapprove ? ” 
She shook her head, and smiled incredulously. “ It 
was impossible.” With rejoicing she broke out 
afresh ; ‘‘ To-night, to-night, not later. I’ll ask my 
guardian’s consent to invite Mr Drysdale to call. 
Doubtless he will enquire who Dick is ? Mon 
Dieu, what answer can I make ? After all, who is 
Dick ? . . . My love ! my fate ! my all ! How 
can I plumply tell my guardian this ? He will 
deem me a simpleton I ” 

Time was up. She must go. She cast a hasty 
glance about the sweet, dainty room she had occu- 
pied so many happy weeks. An expression of 
regret clouded her face. She turned to the little 
dressing table, and touching her lips to her own re- 
flection in the mirror in a charming manner, said 
impulsively : 


THE UNEXPECTED. 


255 


“ Good-bye, Clarisse, good-bye ! ” She waved 
her pocket handkerchief as she crossed the threshold. 
“ Good-bye, dear little room, good-bye ! Souviens- 
moi / ” 

She had been very happy with Mrs Bleecker. 
Nothing, she felt sure, could ever wean her from the 
first motherly love she had ever known. 

Both she and Edith were truly touched to part 
from the little lady for whom they had grown to 
have such a sterling attachment. As they de- 
scended the street steps to the carriage, Mrs 
Bleecker stood at the top, her eyes glistening with 
ready tears, and in a tremulous voice said : 

“ Remember, girls, if ever you need an old lady 
friend, call on me.” She buried her face in her 
pocket handkerchief. “ Dear, oh dear, ^hat a void 
your departure will make in the home. I declare 
Tm half a mind to break up housekeeping.” 

When the footman touched his hat to Clarisse, 
according to the regulated sign-manual of a well- 
bred lackey, she was overtaken by a sense of 
proprietorship, and stepped aside to allow Edith, 
her future guest, to pass before and enter the car- 
riage — her carriage — first. Edith could not repress 
a smile as she observed the movement, and instinc- 
tively divined the worldly paltriness that instigated 
Clarisse, guileless Clarisse, to this involuntary 
assumption of her invested rights. 

True to nature, Clarisse, without being taught, 
had, when the time arrived, doffed her pinafore to 
don the mantle becoming her importance as an 


256 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


affluent householder. She was no richer to-day 
than heretofore, yet the inner consciousness that she 
was now henceforth the recognised mistress of a pre- 
tentious establishment, effected this obvious differ- 
ence in her demeanour. As they rode along in 
silence, Edith’s cogitations led her into a philo- 
sophical strain. After all, Clarisse was only 
illustrating cause and effect. The act she had 
been guilty of was neither personal nor independent. 
It was not arbitrary. 

‘ Of all the drums and rattles by which men are 
made willing to have their heads broke, and are 
led out solemnly every morning to parade, the 
most admirable is this by which we are brought 
to believe events are arbitrary and independent of 
actions ! ’ ” a tit-bit of wisdom she recalled at 
this moment without being able to hit upon the 
author. 

Clarisse looked like a big doll-baby playing 
mother-doll, as she posed in the corner of the 
sumptuously cushioned seat, her tozzle of flossy 
blond hair escaping from her hat, in contrast 
against the blue velvet. She was a feast for artist 
eye. The carriage stopped. Herbert Severance 
greeted the occupants with expressions of unalloyed 
delight as he assisted them to alight, and ushered 
them into the house with much flourish. 

The servants were all smartly capped and 
aproned, standing in line on either side of the hall- 
way, bowing and scraping in such a comical 
manner as they eyed their future mistress, to gauge 


THE UNEXPECTED. 


257 


her temper and formulate her sort ” according to 
their notions. 

At heart, and in all domestic experience, Clarisse 
was a mere child, and felt embarrassed beyond power 
of concealment in the presence of this formidable 
array of expert servitors, who were henceforth 
obeisantly to follow her beck and call, or break out 
in open rebellion, and give her quick ** notice ” be- 
cause “ she he only a young thing ” and sow! it o’ 
a mullet-head!* 

Graciously she nodded to one and all, as she ran 
the gauntlet, leaning on her guardian’s arm. He 
addressed them : — 

‘'This, my good people, is your mistress. Miss 
Clarisse. Do not fail to do your best to serve and 
please her, and all will go well.” 

Here ensued a ducking of heads, a scuffling of 
feet, a rapid doubling of bodies, like jack-knives 
snapped open and shut, and butter- tub curtsies, as 
males and females made their respectful salutations 
to the young mistress. No sooner over than the 
dapper housekeeper, as one in authority, signed the 
flock their dismissal, herself tarrying to receive 
explicit orders, and wait upon the ladies. 

These insignificant matters of everyday life, which 
betokened to Clarisse the fact that henceforth she 
had cares and responsibilities to discharge in her 
present attitude of mistress, oppressed her. She 
felt like a. pinioned bird, with longings to soar 
forthwith above and beyond all mundane trammels. 

The spacious house, its sumptuous appointments, 
R 


258 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


bespeaking wealth, luxury, artistic taste, and un- 
mistakable largesse, gave her a sickening twinge of 
nostalgia. Truly she was not yet at home. The 
maiden was a stranger to her new rSle of mistress. 

At the foot of the main staircase, hiding the 
newel posts, two bronze armoured torch-bearers 
seemingly stood ready to charge upon her with 
deadly ferocity for her intrusion. The dusky half- 
light pervading the lofty halls— for the daylight but 
timidly and sparsely entered through the stained- 
glass window-panes — imparted a religious hush and 
air, reminding her of the secluded cloisters of the 
convent, so familiar to her childhood ; she would 
not have been surprised to see a nun or an abbe 
silently emerge from any corner. 

Edith, true to her vocation, had been from the 
moment of their entrance revolving in her brain the 
best methods to reliven the reigning solemnity, and 
furbish up a bit the over-awing conventionality of 
wainscotting and dado, frieze and ceiling; how to 
effectively pierce the regulated gloom, by throwing 
thereabout a dash of warm colour, and admit more 
than sombre reverberations of the cheery sunshine. 

A fine noble tomb ! A lugubrious dwelling ! 
Ugh ! it*s enough to give one the shivers, and goose- 
flesh one from head to foot. According to appear- 
ances it should be haunted,” she instinctively said 
to herself, winding up with, ^ Out upon it all ! 
It’s false to art ! Meritricious, from A to Z ! ” She 
had no sympathy nor tolerance for cumbersome, 
depressing, decorative fads ; in fact, she could but 


THE UNEXPECTED. 


259 


regard them as the direct reverse of the highest 
artistic taste. 

So much for first impressions. No sooner had 
they passed out of the halls within the rooms, than 
the wholly different aspect of the interior presented 
a vivid contrast for the better. There was un- 
doubtedly a certain stiffness in the arrangement of 
the furniture, due to the lack of ease on the part 
of new servants ; but, all in all, there was but little 
to be criticised, or that grated .on the best of good 
taste. Nothing was actually inharmonious, or, at 
least, that a trifling touch by the right fingers 
might not remedy and soften at once. 

At the dinner-table Herbei;t Severance’s coun- 
tenance was illumined with a radiant smile of 
contentment and joy. He said several times, in 
different phraseology, d propos of nothing : 

“ Ah, I shall indeed believe myself in paradise, 
with you two charming sprites as my daily trencher 
companions. . . . Life will certainly be fraught 
with new joys, new aims for me, with the glorious 
inspiration you will lei^ to its routine. ... I 
trust you may both be happy, and will find 
sufficient diversion to ward off regrets or the 
blues. . . . Surround yourselves with the com- 
panions of whom you are already fond, and enlarge 
your circle.” Dropping his generalisation, he turned 
towards Clarisse, addressed her : My dear child, 
in a short time I purpose giving a reception, at 
which you shall make your d^hiit in my world. 
With due formality 1 shall proudly present you to 
all my friends.” 


260 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


Clarisse clapped her hands, exclaiming, " How 
charming ! how charming.” However, his remarks 
suggested to her that it would be an excellent 
moment to acquit herself of what was uppermost 
in her thoughts. 

“ Mr Severance,” she ventured hesitatingly. 

He looked at her with astonished eyes, and in- 
terrupted her. 

'' No, not Mr Severance, but hereafter and 
always, father” 

“ Well, then, father — how droll ! ” resumed she, 
her face dyed crimson by the fear that she was to 
have received a reprimand of a different sort, when 
he had checked her, father, while in Europe 
Baron de Sillvermann presented to us a party of 
young American gentlemen.” She kept eyeing 
him as she proceeded. ‘‘We have continued,” she 
interjected, “with Mrs Bleecker’s sanction, since 
coming to America, their acquaintance, with one 
exception, and if you do not disapprove, I think it 
would be very pleasant to invite them to my home. 
Don’t you, Edith ? ” 

“Yes, most certainly, Clarisse. But what a 
silly question to ask me. You know I am a 
staunch votary of steadfastness. Once a friend, 
always a friend, is one of my mottoes.” 

“My child,” spoke up Mr Severance, his face 
beaming, “you are chatelain of the manor; no 
one shall gainsay you or your friend’s slightest 
wish, unless it portends some harm to you singly or 
jointly; then — well then, I should advise you, not 


THE UNEXPECTED. 


261 


dictate'* The emphasis placed upoD this utterance 
betrayed considerable feeling. Did he dimly see 
in the future occasions for antagonisms ? God, not 
mortals, knows the promptings of such thoughts. 

** Among the number, father , — how droll to call 
any person father out of orders, — well, father, there 
was a Mr Drysdale — ” 

“ Oh, Clarisse ! Clarisse ! my child, do you know 
what you are saying?” The words fairly burst 
from his lips. He abruptly sprang from the table, 
rushed behind her chair, and kissed her fervently 
on the forehead. 

Surprised and disconcerted, she looked up in his 
face appealingly. Her lips quivered. 

‘‘ I did not mean to be unreasonable,” she said, 
apologetically. Is there any cause why I may 
not invite him ? ” 

“No, no, my child ! you have carte blanche to 
invite him, and, I reiterate, any of your friends. 
This is unqualifiedly your home. Whomsoever enters 
here must be here by your invitation or wish, else 
they shall leave at your bidding. Can I say 
jj^ore ? ” — he faltered a moment — “ unless, per- 
chance, I add the clause that I, too, have no right 
of continuance when you weary my presence.” 
This gust of emotion had started great beads of 
perspiration on his forehead. 

Edith had quietly observed this scene. She 
mentally put a pin into the little melodrama, as 
something unusual to note. Aha I thought she, 
this self-poised, dignified, strong man is not of the 


262 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


weather-vane sort to be thus agitated by a slight 
incident, or one to yield his self-possession to any 
ordinary coincident, — an enigma, interesting to 
her fertile brain, because of its complexity, requir- 
ing skill to riddle. Time would tell. She was 
casually studying values from life. 

Clarisse affected a scowl at her guardian's words, 
shrugged her shoulders, making Mr Severance and 
Edith laugh outright, as she poutingly retorted ; 

“You are impolite and unkind to hint that I 
could be such an ungrateful toad I 

Leaving the dining-room, both girls of one 
accord requested permission, which was granted, to 
accompany Mr Severance to his library while he 
smoked. 

The picture Souvenir had been purposely re- 
moved. In its place hung a choice gem from the 
brush of Alma Tadema. As he explained, in 
answer to a question put to him by Edith : 

“This is an acquisition to my ait collection I 
doubly value ; firstly, for its intrinsic merit, ca va 
sans dire ; secondly, as a gift from a friend it was 
once in my power to save from ruin when he was 
in disastrous financial straits. This friend has 
never ceased to manifest his gratefulness for the 
needed prop at the needed time, even though he 
has amassed an enormous fortune. He has never 
wearied of his old obligation. You know. Miss 
Longstreth, that gratitude is an old-fashioned 
virtue fallen much in disuse now-a-days.” 

Edith and Mr Severance thus drifted into con- 


THE UNEXPECTED. 


263 


versation ud interesting to Clarisse. She meandered 
all about the room, attracted by various objects, 
until, finally tired of the monotony, she gazed out of 
the window. Finding it bright and alluring with- 
out, she stepped on to the balcony, and thence 
tripped into the garden. She was soon lost to view, 
as she glided between the bushes plucking flowers. 

Suddenly an unearthly scream rent the air. 
Clarisse came dashing back like one pursued by 
a monster, her face blanched with terror. The 
entire household was in alarm. Edith and Mr 
Severance rushed to her aid, barely to catch her 
as she pitched forward at the foot of the steps, 
trembling so violently she was unable either to 
speak or to maintain herself in an upright position. 

To the rapid questions asked by Mr Severance, 
she kept pointing nervously to the dense shrubbery, 
her eyes riveted upon the spot from whence she 
had just emerged. 

Mr Severance committed her to Edith’s care, and 
himself rushed in the direction she indicated by her 
gestures and fixed looks, followed by the wonder- 
stricken servants. He discovered a little gate, that 
had been for years cemented in the solid masonry 
as a fixture, prized open. Fresh foot-tracks on the 
gravelled pathway, as well as the evidences of a 
hasty exit upon the down-trodden foliage, clearly 
showed to him that some person had but just made 
an escape. He stepped out through the opening 
to the street, hastily glancing in all directions, but 
seeing no one he despatched the servants to make 


264 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


a thorough search in the immediate vicinity, at the 
same time chargiog them to ask any passers'by if 
they had met anyone in flight. A police officer 
was summoned to patrol the neighbourhood. Every 
precaution was speedily taken to obviate another 
similar surprise. 

Finally, Clarisse recovered her self-possession 
enough to tell the cause of her fright. 

I went humming along the parterre plucking 
flowers, thinking how beautiful it all was, and 
thankful that heaven had smiled thus upon me. 

I thought I heard a bird twitter, a bird in distress. 

I turned to the spot I fancied the sound came 
from, but the farther I walked beneath the inter- 
lacing shrubbery, the farther the bird’s cries went 
from me. Full of pity for the poor bird I now 
fancied must be the prey of a cat or dog, and 
was being carried away, I started and ran in 
pursuit, always guided by the twittering, until I 
reached a spot where I saw the street-light stream- 
ing through an opening in the wall. Here it 
was some one touched me gently on my shoulder, 
and a voice I knew so well said, ‘ Eememher, I am 
always near yon for your mothers sake.* Shaking 
with fear, I screamed, and turned around. Mon 
Lieu ! I beheld Count De La Rue’s double dis- 
appear through the hole in the wall ! ” 

Herbert Severance, with horror depicted upon 
his face, sprang towards Clarisse in a perfect frenzy 
before she had finished. '"In the name of God, 
child,” he fairly yelled, " where did you know Count 
De La Rue ? ” 


THE UNEXPECTED. 


265 


** Misericorde Dieu! he was my tutor at the 
convent, but I saw his double ! I saw his double ! 
he must be dead ! ” hysterically responded Clarisse 
as she crouched close beside Edith. 

Mr Severance, as one paralysed, stood speechless 
in his amazement. Edith coolly said in an effort to 
relieve the stress of the situation : 

Don’t you think, Mr Severance, that Clarisse’s 
superacute imagination will account for this episode ? 
You must take into consideration the fact that she 
has been taxed to an abnormal degree by the gene- 
ral metamorphosis in her life, and is in a pardon- 
able state of nervous excitability. Possibly a tramp 
sneaking about for pelf was surprised by her pre- 
sence, and dreading his own exposure, scared her to 
cover his own flight, and in the confusion took to 
his heels and vanished through the wall. This is 
about the substance of the double, rdest cepas ma 
cheri ? ” She stroked Clarisse’s head. You were 
humming some air, Clarisse, in all probability 
taught to you by Count De La Kue ? ” 

Oh, yes ! I was, Edith.” 

“ And thinking of your mother, eh ? ” 

“Yes, oh yes.” 

“ See, Mr Severance, I do not require a divining- 
rod. Nerves and imagination are too often the 
only sources from which loom up miraculous things.” 

“ Quite right. Miss Longstreth, and very philoso- 
phical. The old story, revised, of the small piece of 
cheese, from which sprang a dynasty of giants to 
belabour the late diner in his sleep.” Although he 


266 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


was ill at ease he adored Edith for this anti-climax, 
for he had been personally thrown so utterly off 
guard as to have heedlessly plunged straight into 
great peril. 

Edith ! ” spasmodically burst out Clarisse, kiss- 
ing her friend warmly, You are truly my guardian 
angel, my good mentor. I confess I am nervous 
and excitable to-night. Can you blame me ? Who 
wouldn’t be, in my place 1 ” 

‘^Letusgo indoors,” calm now to outward ap- 
pearances, urged Mr Severance in a subdued resolute 
tone. 


CHAPTER XVII. 


ACCURSED VOWS; 


** A noble tempter dost thou show in this ; 

And great aflfections wrestling in thy boso-® 

Doth make an earthquake of nobility ; 

0, what a noble combat hast thou fought 
Between compulsion and a brave respect I ** 

“ "T REGRET the necessity,” Mr Severance said once 
J- the two were again within doors, which 
obliges me to commit you both to your own devices 
for amusement the remainder of the evening. Un- 
fortunately, I have some important legal documents 
to examine.” 

Clarisse turned towards him, her countenance 
somewhat downcast, and taking his hand, carried it 
to her lips, half whispered : 

“ Pardon me for giving you such a start. May 
I come to you later on when you have finished with 
your business ? ” 

I feel loath, my child, to keep you from your 
rest so late, for I cannot count on concluding my 
business till after midnight.” 

" Well, for to-night, then, only for to-night, I will 
be content without you.” She clung a moment to 


268 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


him. He placed his hand under her chin, and 
upturned her face to implant a good-night kiss. 

Edith, seeing this tender act, quietly left the 
room, making a silent inclination of her head to 
Mr Severance. 

Finding himself alone with Clarisse, he could no 
longer repress his feelings. 

“ Clarisse, my own child, come, sit down awhile 
with me. I will postpone my work. 

He sat down in his writing-chair, after placing 
her in a cosy seat. 

Clarisse, I do not wish to shock you, or seem 
austere, nevertheless I must ward against harm 
by exacting from you a solemn promise — in brief, 
that under no circumstances which may perchance 
arise, will you ever see or communicate with Count 
He La Kue.” She recoiled, and looked vexed ; yet 
he continued with emphasis, “ I have indisputable 
evidence of his personal depravity and. unscrup- 
ulous wickedness** . . . 

“ Oh ! no ! no ! do not say that, pray, do not 
say that ! ” She pressed the palms of her hands 
frantically to her ears. ** He is so good, so kind, 
so noble. He has been my best, my only friend 
then in a broken, sobbing voice, He, yes, he it 
was who taught me to devotedly worship the very 
name of my sainted mother. No ! no ! he cannot, 
he cannot be what you say ! ” 

She was now standing, wringing her hands in 
her anguish, her voice tearful, but her eyes un- 
moistened. She kept shrinking away from h'er 


ACCUESED VOWS. 


269 


father, as though repelled by his denunciation of 
her friend, lest he might contaminate her by his 
malignity. - 

Her wrath was at a white heat. Now he 
thought the time to strike the crucial blow — a 
blow which in dealing he risked shattering his own 
future happiness. 

“ My child,” he resumed, “ this is a great mis- 
fortune to me, and a hardship for you, I perceive, 
that passeth all words; yet I must tell you, my 
child, that Count De La Rue is an unmitigated 
villain'* At these words she started. “ He has 
sought to win your affection, bent on your ruin. I 
do not wish to be too harsh by my plainness, nor to 
wound your sense of loyalty for a supposed friend, 
but I must absolutely exact this promise from you 
now** He had spoken with unshakeable authority. 

“ Mr Severance, I absolutely refuse to admit 
your right to exact compliance from me I ” Her 
eyes fairly snapped in scornful anger, as she 
nervously kept clasping and unclasping her hands, 
standing defiantly, her head thrown well back, her 
breath coming quick and hot. “ Mr. Severance, 
who then are you ? ** she demanded. 

"Judgment of a righteous God, that my own 
daughter, my own ilesh and blood, should challenge 
niy paternal rights in this way ! ” He rose and 
stepped beside her, firmly clasping her in his arms, 
in spite of her fierce though futile struggle, drew 
her close to his breast, and looked steadfastly in 
her eyes, now burning with tears. 


270 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


“ Clarisse, my darling/’ he said in a pained 
voice, “ I AM YOUR FATHER. YoU ARE MY OWN 
DAUGHTER ! ” Hot tears gushed from her eyes. 

It has been in sacred fulfilment of your mother’s 
dying behest, that I have not revealed my relation- 
ship before. Remorse and sorrow, of the most 
poignant kind, have dwelt with me all these long, 
bitter, lonely years of silent exile from you, my 
own, my darling. I can tell you no more, than 
that Count De La Rue was the actual cause of your 
cherished mother’s untimely death.” 

Did he murder her ? ” she fairly screamed the 
words. 

“ No, not in a violent way. But he killed her 
in a heartless way.” 

“ Then, why have you not avenged her ? Why, 
if your words are not mockeries, did you not kill 
him, or hand him over to the law ? If he has 
truly robbed me of my mother, — how hard, how 
cruel to think of it, — then I shall he her avenger T 
She had struggled free from his arms, the words 
leapt from her lips with the crazed vehemence of one 
suddenly stung to madness by an unseen viper. 
She stood there superb in her wrath, resembling 
an avenging angel, menacing her father in her 
upbraidings. 

Be calm, my child, be calm. You are swayed 
by overwhelming emotions. Be calm. Listen to 

me.” . . . 

No ! no ! I cannot 1 My heart is bursting ! 
My brain is crazed ! To think that you, my 


ACCURSED VOWS. 


271 


father, suffered all these years the destroyer of my 
mother to live ! to breathe in my presence ! to win 
my almost filial love and respect, and I not know 
it ! Mon Dien ! Mon Diew ! How can such 
wrongs abide with us poor mortals, and we not 
know it ! ” Her sobs were wrenched from the 
depths of her being in wild unreasoning agony. 

‘‘ Clarisse, Clarrisse, do not torture your soul in 
this way. Hear me out. Trust me, at least, until 
you know all. Recriminations are useless. Let 
my future acts prove to you that my past silence, 
my past inaction was not neglect, was not indif- 
ference. Believe me, my dear child, it costs me 
terrible struggles to be willing to immolate myself, 
but for your sake, you who were all that was left 
sacred to me, I have done it. . . . My child, my 
underlying motive was to attest an unflinching 
reverence for your mothers dying behest.” . . . 
His voice was tender, full of touching pathos, the 
words were vibrations from his heart. Come, my 
poor wounded dove, do be comforted. . . . Accept 
my love, my unceasing devotion to you, in evidence 
that I am not wholly to be condemned. I was 
mistaken, blindly mistaken, but not indifferent to 
you, no, not indifferent.” The tears were streaming 
down Clarisse s face, and her choking sobs tormented 
her father pitilessly. He seemed helpless in his 
efforts to comfort her. 

“Come, dear, suffering heart, know that your 
fatlier idolizes you second only to the memory of 
your mother.” 


272 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


These caressing words, spoken in a soothing, 
affectionate tone, won the spirited girl like magic, 
and exorcised from her heart the rash inexorable 
hatred, the frantic resentment, which had momen- 
tarily possessed her. She sank down beside him 
on a couch, and buried her face in his breast. 
He gently stroked the long golden tresses of her 
dishevelled hair, and kept softly cooing in her ears. 

‘^My darling — dear child — poor heart, be com- 
forted — ^you shall be happy — the past shall be 
atoned.” His great heart plunged and throbbed. 
His words were tendrils, insinuating about and 
enveloping her. The strong, the frail, despite their 
mighty conflict, soon would coalesce. 

‘‘Forgive me, forgive me,” finally she summoned 
voice to sob out, with sweet, unfeigned contrition. 
“ What you have told me is so hard, so very, very 
bard to bear.” She placed both her hands upon 
his shoulders in a fierce clutch. “ Swear to me, 
father, swear that you will yet hill that man ! 
Then, only then, will I be comforted.” 

With a face as immobile as granite, he pro- 
nounced, with uplifted hands, the oath : 

Before God 1 solemnly swear to hill Count De 
La Rue if he still lives, or he hilled in the 
conflict” 

A radiance from within seemed to burst out over 
Clarisse’s face. 

“ Now, my father, I can abide with you, love 
and revere you. Had you any idea of the all- 
absorbing nature of the love I have borne my 


ACCURSED VOWS. 


I 


273 


mother’s memory, you might, perhaps, understand 
what a heart-breaking blow I have received. It 
maddens me beyond all bounds. . . . Father ! 
I marvel how you could ever live through this 
inconsolable affliction. How can I ? ” She looked 
at him strangely, lowering her voice. “ TeU me, 

once for all times, did he ” she hesitated, 

dreading to lift the veil, then added in self- 
reproach : “ No ! no ! I cannot say it, that would 
be profanity.” 

Evidently her father surmised the import of her 
broken query, and, with the sense that his course 
was strictly and decently justifiable, he answered 
her unfinished question with the steadiness with 
which the builder sets the keystone of a structure 
that is destined to withstand the ravaging elements 
for all time : 

“ My child, your mother died as pure as a lily. 
Let us hury this topic for ever” Angel nor devil 
dare gainsay words thus spoken. 

Reaction to the fierce conflict they had engaged 
in could not be stayed offl Father and daughter 
both sat for some moments in silence, communing 
with their own hearts. 

Few artists have ever been able to place such 
an enhallowed tableau on canvas. Words are 
too vapid, too niggardly to depict it. The wrapt 
demon-spelled child, fierce with vengeance, so 
beautiful, so terrible. The father seeming like 
one consecrated by his oath to a holy cause, 
grand in his inflexibility to the future. 

S 


274 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


Clarisse arose, prompted by her good genii, put 
her arms about her father’s neck, and, in pathetic 
half- whispers, said : “ Father, forgive me. I am 
truly penitent for causing you pain. I will try to 
curb any future outbreaks. . . To-day has been 
teeming with strange things, . . . happy . . . 
and bitter surprises. . . . They have upset me.” 
She kissed his brow. “ Don’t look so sad. . . . 
Make peace with me. . . . Let me share your 
life with you in gladness or in sadness.” 

“ Say no more, my child. I do not censure you, 
nor harbour any feelings, except my own personal 
remorse. Should I fail in making your life happy, 
then, my child, I shall have miserably failed to 
have lived to any good purpose. . . . Good-night, 
my little one, pleasant dreams.” . . . He kissed 
her with tender passion, and led her to the door. 

He stood upon the threshold of the open door, 
watching her with involuntary pride and admira- 
tion ascend the long flight of stairs. ‘ She was 
such a lovely, graceful specimen of girlish woman- 
hood, withal so high-spirited and mettlesome. 
Reaching the last step she loitered on the land- 
ing long enough to break a rose from the flowers 
she wore, kissed it ardently, and tossed it swirling 
through the air down to him. 

“ There ! put that under your pillow, and the 
fairies will tickle your ears with tuneful melody, 
and open your vision to coming events ! ” and away 
she tripped out of sight. 

A smile flitted over Herbert Severance's coun- 


ACCURSED VOWS. 


275 


tenance at her girlish nonsense. He pressed the 
rose to his lips, returning to his library. He in- 
voluntarily thought, ah, she is more of a fire-opal 
than a pearl. Then he thought of another Clarisse 
in the long ago. 

Clarisse paused to listen before Edith’s door 
All was silent. She inferred that Edith slept, and 
thankfully entered her own apartment, for she was 
in no mood even to see her friend. 

She was charmed with the arrangement and 
fittings of her apartment. First came the little 
boudoir, opening into her bed-chamber, then her 
dressing and bath rooms were nestled at one side. 
Every article of furnishing seemed endued with a 
welcome. The whole place possessed an air of 
habitation. Some painstaking, experienced person 
had anticipated every want her capricious and 
indulged nature might trump up. 

A dainty Buhl escritoire stood open, with writing 
paraphernalia of the latest wrinkle placed in full 
view. Nothing wanting. What a tempting invi- 
tation to write. She had, for a fact, mentally 
registered a vow not to sleep this night before she 
had written to Dick. Here was her chance. 
Selecting a dainty sheet of paper that took her 
fancy, she began without delay ; 

“ October 1st, 188 — , 

“ At Home. 

“ Mr Drtsdale, 

“ My dear Friend,— Need I write that it will afford me 
ineffable pleasure to receive you in my own home to-morrow 
evening 1 


276 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


“I especially desire to present you to my father! 

“To-day has been by far the most eventful day in my 
entire life, overflowing with incredible surprises, great 
happiness, gi'eat sorrow — a mingling of bitter and sweet. 

“ In consequence, my nerves have been strung up to such a 
tension, I’m about wild. 

“An unlooked-for incident rather forced my father to 
reveal to me certain unpleasant family episodes, which have 
inflicted upon me an unmerciful coup^ although by-gones. 
I am at the present moment still cringing, feeling so hurt, 
with such a new sense of dread, and so frail and utterly 
helpless, I confess I yearn for the companionship of some 
staunch friend upon whom I could lay the burden of my new 
existence. 

“Mr Drysdale, I used to boast of my bravery and endur- 
ance, but this trial has disarmed me by betraying me to dire 
fears of je ne sais quoi. 

“ You can understand, can’t you ? that the wide^separation 
put by years between one of mj jeunesse and my father’s age 
renders it difficile for me to seek him in quest of solace. 
Besides, ties of blood do not wholly obliterate the innate 
restraint I feel, when I consider after all he and I are really 
scarcely acquainted. Barely a week has elapsed since I met 
him, and only to-day since dinner was the disclosure made to 
me of our relationship. 

“It is all so strange — a real romance, thrilling, and 
verging on tragedy. 

“You must pardon the glibness of my pen, for in my 
present frame of mind I cannot curb my yearning for com- 
panionship. And the penalty is on your own head ! You 
remember you asked me to come to you when I needed a 
friend 1 

“ Perhaps when we meet, with your consent I may talk 
over these vexatious topics ; that is, if you will give me your 
word not to turn me over to Edith’s cold, logical verdict. 

“ En passant^ Mr Drysdale, have you any means of con- 
veniently ascertaining whether the French painter, Count De 
La Bue, is in America ? 


ACCUKSED VOWS. 


277 


** If lie is not, I certainly saw his double to-night in the 
garden ! Don’t laugh at this. It is au s^rieux. 

“ I trust, Mr Drysdale, that you will like my home. As for 
MY FATHER he 18 cven more adorable than my guardian va 
sans dire. I flatter myself that you will not be able to refrain 
from admiring him, or from feeling a great respect for his 
superior qualities. It is at this moment my cherished hope 
that you may be friends in the highest and fullest interpreta- 
tion of the appellation. 

“Until to-morrow, aurevoir . — Ever truly, 

“ Clarisse Corneille Severance.” 

«RS. V. P.” 


“ There I won’t Master Dick be amazed ? I 
wonder if he will guess the truth ? ” she exclaimed, 
as she kissed the folded missive with girlish fervour, 
lingering over it as if to breathe in upon its pages 
unwritten messages that he might read between 
the lines. 

After sealing the envelope, it flashed through her 
brain that it was too late to send a servant to the 
post. She recalled having seen a letter-bag hanging 
in a recess of the vestibule of the lower halL She 
tip-toed down to drop her missive therein. On 
her return, when half-way up the stairs, the library 
door slid open, and her father walked out, evidently 
bent on his way to bed. 

Impulsive child, with alertness she leaned over 
the balustrade, exclaiming, sotto voce : 

** Hist ! S-t-o-p th-i-e-ves ! ” and rippled out 
a merry laugh. He looked up with composure, not^ 
in the least startled, exactly as if it were a customary 
greeting he expected at that particular moment ; 


278 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


saying in a manner of half rebuke, ** I thought, 
little truant, you had long since retired.” 

“Don’t be grumpy, there’s a dear. I’ve just 
been down to drop in the letter-bag a letter I 
had promised to write and post to-night.” At this 
juncture he had attained her side, he put his arm 
about her waist, and went with her to her door. 

“ But where is your room ? ” she asked in a child- 
like way. 

“ Directly over yours. It corresponds in its 
arrangements with yours. You shall see to-morrow. 
Now,'childie, do retire, you look worn.” He kissed 
her forehead, and quietly ascended his flight of 
stairs. 

She heard his door close, heard the tread of his 
feet overhead. Peculiar were the sensations she 
experienced as she thought, yes, her own father 
had clasped her in his arms, had told her the sad 
story of her mother’s fate. How she now loathed 
Count De La Hue. The mere idea was insufferable 
to ponder upon, that for so many years, with 
childish trust, she had fondly looked up to this 
arrant villain as her best friend ! What could 
have been his motives ? 

She wrought herself up to believe that, without 
a doubt, it was he in person whom she had 
encountered in the garden, and not his double. 
This being the case, what security could she ever 
feel anywhere against his unbidden appearance, 
against any harm he might plot to injure her or 
her father. These apprehensions tormented l^er, 


ACCURSED VOWS. 


279 


as she prepared for bed. After retiring, for long 
hours she tossed restlessly, unable to cozen sleep, 
for she utterly failed to banish these ugly thoughts. 

So many trifles of the Count’s former speeches 
at the time she had disregarded, seemed now 
imbued with ominous intent. Her thoughts 
haunted her. In sheer desperation she forsook 
her bed, and resolved to seek distraction in a book. 
... No use. The book kept dropping from her 
listless hands into her lap, for her thoughts would 
stray back again into the forbidden realm. If day 
would only come, she might endure better her 
gruesome thoughts. How her brain throbbed and 
burned. 

She caught sight of a wax taper on her dressing- 
table ; it occurred to her to light it, and roam over 
the upper portion of the house, which she had not 
yet visited. 

Moving like a spirit in her soft, white draperies 
noiselessly along the halls, carpeted with heavy 
moquette, which muffled every sound, she proceeded 
up the massive creakless stairs, watching, as she 
advanced, the fitful shadows produced by the taper 
light and her gliding form, dance and. dart, now 
elongated until lost in slender nothingness, again 
squat and impish, then whirligigs of undefined 
sparkles and glints, merging and emerging in 
sportive phantoms. 

The wall spaces of the upper hall she approached 
were covered with fine pictures. It afforded her 
veritable pleasure- to look at them, although de- 


280 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


ciphered with difficulty under the scant light grVen 
by her taper. Finally, the last canvas was vie^s^red. 
Still she was wakeful. Finding herself facing a 
portiere, she lifted it cautiously, to reveal the 
interior of a lounging or smoking room, and a 
general repository for all sorts of mannish belongings, 
more curious than decorative. A picture — a man’s 
portrait — attracted her attention. She carried the 
taper high above her head, to throw upon it a 
better light. 

‘'What! It cannot be! Mon Dieu ! Je 
mis folle ! ” With these exclamations she rushed 
towards the picture, clambered upon a chair, and 
held the taper in reckless closeness to the canvas. 
“ Yes, yes, there can be no mistake. It is Dick. 
What does it all mean ? Where am I ? Am I 
dreaming ? If not, how came Dick’s portrait here 
in my father’s house ? ” 

Thoroughly bewildered she stepped do\vn to the 
floor, rubbed her eyes, stared anew at the picture, 
pressed her throbbing temples, and gazed furtively 
about her. Half frightened, she was unable to 
move. Was she under som^ hallucination ? Her 
heart fluttered wildly. Her knees were giving way. 
By an almost superhuman effort she mastered this 
invading weakness, and fairly flew from the room 
directly to her father’s door, in the rush extinguish- 
ing her taper. Now her blood seemed to curdle in 
her veins, she felt pursued, beset on all sides : from 
within by her fears, from without by the unknown 
which skulked in the darkness. 


ACCURSED VOWS. 


281 


Her nerveless fingers helplessly twined and 
slipped about the door-knob, powerless to turn it. 
Time, in her affected imagination, had stretched 
out to infinity. Reeling under her terror, she was 
about succumbing and sinking down upon the 
floor, when she distinguished faintly the sound of 
her father’s heavy breathing. Like the sweep of 
magic all her terror was dispelled. She no longer 
feared aught. Strength returned. She opened 
the door without effort, and crept to her father’s 
bedside, threw herself upon her knees, leant her 
head on the bed, and quietly uttered a prayer of 
thankfulness for her delivery. Here she was safe. 

. . . Here she was sheltered in the presence of 
this strong man, from the rough, cruel stabs of the 
wicked world. A sigh of relief escaped from her 
trembling lips. 

A pale, faint light, the harbinger of approaching 
dawn, vaguely disclosed the objects in the room. 
Her father held in his hand the rose she had flung 
to him over the balustrade. Then he did not 
ignore sentiment. This thought pleased her, for 
after all her education had made her impressionable, 
and taught her to foster the softest, most romantic 
sentiments. 

The disturbance occasioned by an extraneous 
element impinging upon the orbit of his aura, was, 
according to some theorists, appreciable to his 
sleeping consciousness. 

He awoke, and, without evincing surprise, 
extended his hand to her. 


282 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


My dear child/' he softly said, “ what brings 
you here ? ” 

" I couldn't sleep, and have prowled over this 
floor, until a nervous freak of fright drove me in 
to you. I entreat you to let me stay until the 
servants are astir. ... I am contented here, 
and comfortable too, see 1 " She drew close beside 
his bed a sleepy-hollow chair, and curled up in 
it like a kitten in a basket. 

He thought, why deny her this boon when she 
was evidently the victim of an access of nervous- 
ness ? He consented, at the same time cautioning 
her against talking, on the plea that if she did 
she would disturb him. Soon both slept. 

Eare type of girlish innocence, how naturally 
her filial instincts had led her to seek the pro- 
tection of her father, without a glimmer of thought 
that her action was at variance with the diminutive 
proprieties of a conventional society. 

At the appointed hour, with clock-like punctu- 
ality Jones entered his master’s apartment to 
perform his customary matutinal services. Much 
astonished to find his young mistress asleep in the 
chair, he quitted the room, impressed with the 
importance devolving upon his shoulders to prevent 
the other and new servants from stumbling upon 
the discovery he had made. He purposely closed 
the door with a bang, and went to his master’s 
bath-room, vigorously whistling — a liberty he would 
never otherwise have presumed to have taken — 
and turned on the splashing water, without his 
usual precaution to silence the noisa 


ACCURSED VOWS. 


283 


Clarisse awoke with a start, and hastily gathered 
herself up, slipped out of the room, and sought her 
own apartment without a moment’s delay ; whereas, 
Mr Severance, accustomed to Jones’s manoeuvres, 
slept on till Jones touched his shoulder, announcing : 

“ Bath ready, sir,” pleased with his own tactics, 
but wondering if the “ Guv’nor will try to play any 
hocus-pocus on me respecting the young missus. 
He ought shurly to know, after my long years in 
his sarvice, I can kape a family saycrit snug and 
tight, so he ought.” 

“ Jones, what has become of Miss Clarisse ? 
When I last fell asleep, she was quietly dozing in 
the big chair. Had she gone when you came in ? ” 

" I didn’t luk, sir. You didn’t tell me to, sur, 
and I only obeys orders, sur.” 

Mr Severance involuntarily smiled, somewhat 
amused at this white lie, and thought, "Capital 
servant that.” 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


BELEAGUERED CONSCIENCEL 

“ I have read, in the marvellous heart of man. 
That strange and mystic scroll. 

That an army of phantoms, vast and wan. 
Beleaguer the human soul.” 



OT even the bright fresh morning could 


banish from Herbert Severance’s heart 
the dull, heavy ache. Not even the knowledge 
that from henceforth his daughter should be near 
him, and that Dick would in all probability win 
her, thereby making a new bond for her and for 
him, — a much-wished for consummation, — no, not 
all this could divert his thoughts from the cruel 


hurt. 


The terrible oath he had solemnly given to 
Clarisse conspired to stir up bitter, bitter memories, 
vivifying wrongs time had, if not healed, at least 
dulled, and put away from his daily life. 

Keen remorse kept goading him for the repre- 
hensible way he had allowed the possibility of that 
scoundrel’s ever knowing Clarisse. Might he not 
have tinctured her mind and warped her character 
by his constant association with her? Her nature. 


BELEAGUERED CONSCIENCE. 


285 


SO young and pliant, would likely take the hue of 
impressions first made. If so, was it to be hoped 
that he could, by one fell swoop, obliterate them ? 
The blow he had given the previous night had 
truly struck her through her deepest affections, and 
seemed to embitter her to a frantic degree. 

Facts are irrefutable, and yet nature is so cunning 
an intriguer against all philosophy of should he 
and ought to he, that she asserts thfe is she desires, 
despite hope or argument to the contrary. Was it 
not quite supposable that De La Rue sought to 
direct a final blow against him through her ? . . . 
Some active means must be employed at once ; 
first, to find out beyond peradventure whether De 
La Rue was in America. Should his fears be 
confirmed, then the next step behoved him to de- 
termine, not only his enemy’s whereabouts, but, 
more difficult thing, his motives. His oath should 
be executed at all hazard. . . . Stop ! . . . 
What right had he to thus deliberately plot against 
the life of any mortal ? . . . His oath. . . . 
But did not the law beyond contravention say, 
“ That any man or woman who shall conspire 
against the life of another fellow-being, kill, cause 
to be killed, or aid and abet in the killing, commits 
murder, in a greater or less degree, afterwards de- 
terminable ” ? This law takes no cognisance of the 
nameless, vicious, extenuating circumstances upon 
which he was now basing his own individual case. 
Since such a long time — eighteen years — had 
elapsed, he clearly saw he had not even the defence 


286 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


of a furious outbreak of wrath at the time of 
the discovery of the wrong done him. 

Then, again, if he did this deed of vengeance, he 
proposed to take the brunt of his crime. He 
spurned the bare thought of seeking to screen 
himself cowardly behind some accomplice, or crave 
mercy for extenuating circumstances. No, he would 
brave it through. . . . All very well in point of 
untested theory. . . . Noble and high spirited, 
but he could not ward off the publicity, the 
scathing shame and disgraceful horror of having 
all the skeletons of his past sorrows dragged forth, 
stripped of their winding-sheets, to be ogled at 
and descanted upon by the leering world ! 

Then, too, the reflected dishonour, the opprobrium 
that needs must fall upon Clarisse’s innocent head — 
no ! no ! it was too appalling ! It would blight her 
life, spoil the joy of love, rob her of certain tradi- 
tional social rights dear to all. Better violate the 
accursed oath. Far better, even, as a last resort, 
end his own existence, and bury himself and his 
skeletons in one grave. 

In thus shirking the responsibility of fulfilling 
his oath, to what course would it drive Clarissel 
. . . She had exhibited so much spirited feeling. 
She had seemed repulsed from him, because he had 
not heretofore vindicated her dead mother’s memory. 
. . i She would, without a doubt, abominate his 
weakness. ... If that was all he feared, he 
could have endured that. But might she not be 
strung up to such a pitch — for she had threatened 


BELEAGUERED CONSCIENCE. 


287 


to herself avenge her mother — that she might enact 
some desperate deed, commit some crime ? 

Finally, half vexed with himself for indulging in 
such sinister suppositions, such moral bug-a-boos, he 
made an effort to shake free from the trammels of 
his mood. Ridiculous ! preposterous ! for a man 
of his experience, his years, his practical sense, his 
legal knowledge, to allow his imagination to weave 
such melodramas ! He, a man who observed 
rigorously all forms, followed the dictates of a 
law-abiding, conservative society. Bah ! his brain 
was muzzy. He was certainly bilious, to be 
haggling thus between his conscience^ the devily and 
the hangman I 

All his mental badgering, however, did not 
liberate him from his deeply-seated perplexity. 
He seemed to be morally driven to the wall. 
There were no returning footsteps. He must push 
through, crush or be crushed. . . . 

“ Father I father ! are you never coming to break- 
fast ? We’re starved I ” rang out Clarisse’s clear, 
sweet voice. It recalled Mr Severance to his right 
every-day state of mind, and brought to his atten- 
tion the corporeal necessities of mundane angels, 
as well as those of robust men. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


CABALISTIC CUPID. 

** A mind might ponder itself for ages, and not gain so much 
self-knowledge as the passion of love shall teach it in a day.” 

W HILE they breakfasted, Jones entered the 
breakfast-room, bringing on a salver a 
note for Clarisse, saying the messenger awaited 
an answer. 

Clarisse glanced at her father and then at Edith 
for permission to break the seal. She nervously 
did so. Her face became suffused crimson, as she 
recognised Dick’s chirography. 

“ Mr DEAR Miss Corneille Severance, — Your interesting 
and most flattering epistle received by first post this m )rning. 
I hasten to reply. Pardon the liberty I shall take in sending 
a special messenger with instructions to await an answer. 

“ If entirely agreeable to you, I should deem it a very 
great privilege to be allowed to transgress etiquette, and 
antedate your invitation for this evening by calling at noon 
instead. May I ? 

“In truth, my dear Clarisse” (she blushed deeply, and 
furtively looked up at Edith), “I have a very important 
matter to communicate to you, and I feel great impatience 
to do BO without delay. Every moment now to me seems 
to throw around me an air of deception. I fear, should you 
make a certain discovery, and dwell too long upon it, with- 


CABALISTIC CUPID. 


289 


out some word of explanation from me, that you might yield, 
for the moment, to the feeling that I had wilfully deceived 
you. 

“ Pray waive all ceremony and grant my request. 

“ Impatiently awaiting your response, I remain, sincerely 
and devotedly yours, “ Pichard Drysdalb.” 

‘‘Victoria Hotel, 

“ Thursday y 10 a.m.” 

With the true impulse of a woman, she cast a 
quizzical glance at her father, throwing her head 
archly on one side, saying : 

“ A note from Mr Drysdale. I should like to 
receive him this morning, unless you object. Jones, 
fetch me my portfolio, please.” 

Mr Severance laughed heartily. Clarisse looked 
in astonishment at him, and shook her finger. 

“ I have a bone to pick with you the moment 
I have finished my note. I’ve found you out, you 
precious humbug ! ” 

“My dear Mr Drysdale, — Pray come at eleven if you 
wish. I am wild to compare you with your counterfeit pre- 
sentment. — Yours truly, “ Clarisse C. Severance.” 

“At Home, Breakfast Hour.*^ 

After dispatching the note, she turned square 
upon her father. 

“ Father, tell me how you happen to have Mr 
Drysdale’s portrait in the smoking-room upstairs ? 
I saw it last night when I was prowling about.” 

“ Certainly, my child, that is no secret. Dick 
Drysdale, you must know, is my nephew, and was 
brought up by me. What’s the matter ? You 
T 


290 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


look astonished. Is there anything marvellous 
in my statement ? ” 

“ Marvellous ! Mon Lieu ! Marvellous ! 

I should say decidedly, yes! Edith, is it not 
like a romance ? J ust fancy how completely in 
the dark we have all been all these months. Now 
I think about it, it occurs to me I never once 
mentioned my guardian’s name, nor did he ever 
name his uncle. It is so very, very strange. I 
feel that some way I’ve been made a goose of. 
Won’t Mrs Bleecker be amazed ! Ah, how fast 
the wheel of fate turns for me these few days. I 
grow giddy. Come, Edith, let’s go up stairs and 
see Dick’s portrait. Will you come too, father ? ” 

** No, my child, not now. When you want me 
you will find me in the library.” 

The two girls tripped up the stairs. Clarisse, in 
advance, burst into the room where the portrait 
hung, and dashed straight for it. The chair, upon 
which the night before she had stood to inspect it, 
remained in a tell-tale manner on the same spot. 
She now proceeded to recount to Edith her noc- 
turnal ramble, and her scare when she discovered 
Dick’s portrait. 

Actually, Edith, I thought that I was losing my 
senses, after the fright I had in the garden, this to 
follow; and, Edith, I rushed into father’s room — 
and, Edith, I curled up and slept in a chair beside 
his bed all night — and, Edith, voild tout ! ” 

“ What an impulsive girl you are, Clarisse ! ^ Au 
serieux, tell me, are you in love with Mr 
Dr^^sdale ? ” 


CABALISTIC CUPID. 


291 


*'1 only know this, Edith, whatever it is that 
prompts the feelings, no one I ever met has had 
the same magical influence over me that Dick has. 
No one ever fills my heart with such throbs of 
anticipation, or leadens it with such pangs of 
despair. I think of him, I dream of him con- 
stantly. And — well, Edith, au fond lu ccRur, I 
feel he is my fate for good or evil, for joy or woe ! 
Is that love ? ” 

Perhaps. I hope so, for your sake. But, 
Clarisse, do you not think Mrs Bleecker’s theory of 
* 'propinquity' may not have something to do with 
your sentiments? For instance, if other male 
associates had mingled with you as freely and 
constantly as Dick, is it not possible that some one 
of them might have enlisted your heart ? ” 

Clarisse had shaken her head all the time Edith 
had been talking, from the moment she caught the 
drift of her words. 

“ Nonsense ! Edith. There were Dick’s com- 
panions, par exemple^ they had the same chance, 
but they were not for me, not one of them. No ! 
no ! no ! absolutely not for me. It was to be Dick 
or no one ! Dick I Dick I only Dick 1 ” 

** Clarisse, pray be careful, do not in a moment 
of exalted sentimentality, risk your entire future. 
Sometime, perhaps, I will tell you a story bearing 
upon just such a mistake.” Her face clouded as she 
spoke, her voice saddened. “ Tell you how a girl 
has lived since discovering she was cheated, a 
broken, defrauded life ; is cynical and distrustful, 


292 


HEKBERT SEVERANCE. 


because the one man, she bad 6xed her affections 
upon, was unworthy of her, unworthy of any 
woman. Ah ! my more than sister, I tell you 
from the bottom of my heart, that such blunders 
spoil the lives of numberless women.” Edith had 
expressed all this with so much pent-up feeling, 
Clarisse impulsively threw her arms about her neck. 

Oh, Edith, ma chSrie ! how sorry I am that 
you should have been so unhappy.” 

** Did I say, dear, it was of myself I spoke ? ” 

No, not in so many words, but I know in- 
tuitively that you 'did mean yourself. I am so 
sorry. But, Edith, I know this is love, real true 
love, I feel for Dick. Pure, unalloyed love, and no 
mistake about it. If I am cheated, then veritably 
all life’s joys will be for ever eclipsed, nought worth 
living for. Nothing.” 

“ I hope it is reciprocated in kind. Only be- 
ware. Do not centre all your future on any man, 
not, at least, till he proves worthy of your love. 
That is all I have to offer. Come, let us go down. 
I am in no mood to view all these fine canvases. I 
am not an artist this morning ; I am a weak, 
repining woman. Another time I should be fierce 
to examine every picture in its minutest detail, 
eager to make studies from some special ones, 
but, not to-day.” 

Edith, how your melancholy mood upsets me. 
Are you ill ? No ? Then what ails you ? Oh, 
I see, you are jealous of me ! Fie, oh, fie I ” glee- 
fully laughed out Clarisse. 


CABALISTIC CUPID. 


293 


** Come, you silly girl, be quiet. I'm not quite 
so degenerate a dolt as to envy you a presupposed 
happiness. Affinities are mostly bosh. Listen, 
what music is that we hear ? ” 

** Dick ! yes, Dick’s voice.” 

Down stairs Clarisse rushed, and uncere- 
moniously, into the library, where Dick was with 
her father. Dick stepped forward to meet her, 
but Clarisse impulsively threw herself into his 
arms, exclaiming ; 

“ Dick, we are cousins now 1 ** 

** Yes, Clarisse, cousins now, but," he kissed her 
forehead, “ happy delirium, perhaps something 
more, and dearer, very, very soon. What do you 
say, uncle ? " 

“ My dear children, you storm my heart with un- 
expected rapture. You have my soul-felt blessing.” 

As he talked he had placed his arm about 
Clarisse’s waist, and laid one hand on Dick’s 
shoulder. The trio made a tableau vivant in- 
tensely human, passionate, and more than pictur- 
esque 

What buzzing confabulation. The barriers were 
all down. Clarisse, as also did Dick, accepted the 
situation as lovers without any preambling ifs ” 
or “ perhapses.’' 

Fate, or something better, had drawn aside the 
veil of circumspection like magic. They knew one 
another from thenceforth in the familiar uncon- 
strained light that bursts upon all young fresh 
hearts in their first propitious attachment 


294 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


Herbert Severance proudly, yet with reserved 
sadness, contemplated Dick and Clarisse for a few 
moments, then, with hollow affectation of jocularity, 
strove to hide his true feelings beneath a common- 
place pointless remark. 

Children, as I am your sole relative, father, 
guardian, uncle, and future father-in-law considered 
in one and the same person, I know in my plu- 
rality I must be a very de trop outgriffinish 
griffin. So, good morning,” and he bowed himself 
out of the room. 

Once they were alone, Dick’s impulse was to give 
vent in rapturous extravagances to the old, old 
story. However, Clarisse was too impatient to tell 
him all which had transpired during the most 
momentous day just past. She entertained a vague 
idea that he only could dissipate the depressing 
forebodings which hung over her, in spite of the joy 
she felt in his acknowledged love for her. Finally, 
she wound up a lengthy narration by saying : 

** Dick, can you find out where Count De La Hue 
now is ? I have the conviction that Mr Rodgers 
will know. Somehow the two men seem to me to 
be working some evil against me.” 

“ My darling,” thoughtfully and fervently replied 
Dick, ** trust to your father and me to settle all 
these unpleasantnesses. Rest content that no stone 
will be left unturned to free you from future 
annoyance, but you must hold yourself strictly aloof 
from the entire matter.” 

In her confidences to Dick, she had omitted 


CABALISTIC CUPID. 


295 


telling him of the vow she had exacted from her 
father. It was no intention to deceive him. It 
was rather one of those innumerable instances when 
even the most united and all-encompassing loves 
consistently allow some leaves to remain uncut in 
the new book of Love. Is it not possibly with the 
undefined idea that — 

“ Cupid is a casuist, 

A mystic, and a cabalist ; 

Can your lurking thoughts surprise, 

And interpret your device ? . . . 

Heralds high before him run ; 

He has ushers many a one ; 

He spreads his welcome where he goes, 

And touches all things with his rose I ** 


CHAPTER XX. 


xdith’s secket. 


^•A wild amazement hurries up and down 
The little number of your doubtful friends.” 


,S BLEECKER greeted as glad tidings 



Clarisse’s and Dick’s betrothal. Society 
heard the banns, generally approved, smiled a pert, 
significant smile, so bland and insinuating, and said : 

“ Most astonishing revelation ! . . . Never 

dreamed Mr Severance had enough romance in 
his composition to have husbanded the harvest 
of his wild oats in such strict secrecy. ... A 
college affair, doubtless. . . . One cannot be too 
rigidly particular in culling out the social list. . . 

To a certain patent pill-maker’s pseudo aristo- 
cratic daughter, Edward Kingston retorted with 
unconcealed acrimony ; 

‘'Pray, my dear madam, what aggrievance has 
society to prate because Mr Severance, like the 
dignified, reserved man that he is, has decently 
kept out of sight and hearing his own personal 
affairs ? Why does it follow that therein lurks 
any mystery or scandal? For my part, it seems 
that the greatest of social vices unrepressed is the 


Edith’s secret. 


297 


morbid, maudlin tendency to pluck the bandage 
from heart wounds, or to reveal the scar where we 
have been hit by fate’s flying wheel. Bah ! it’s a 
species of moral mendicancy that should be out- 
ruled, and hooted down in all refined society ! ” 

** Dear ! oh, dear ! Mr Kingston, what a fiery 
dragon you are to terrorize in this fashion poor 
innocent me! All the same, Mr Kingston, even 
you must admit that Mr Severance’s very, very long 
secrecy has no parallel in genteel society ? Then, 
what proof have we, Mr Kingston, that Miss Cor- 
neille Severance, as she is pleased to call herself 
now, is a proper person to countenance and receive 
in select society ? ” 

‘‘ Great heavens 1 ” abruptly exclaimed Mr 
Kingston, with an expression of unmitigated con- 
tempt for the barefaced affrontery of this simper- 
ing parvenu, “is the fabric of society so flimsy 
and shabby, so utterly degenerate, that it cannot 
discriminate the genuineness or spuriousness between 
ermine and skunk skins ? However, madam, in 
fine I must take the liberty of vouchsafing in 
behalf of my friends that they are not applicants 
on probation for the recognition of society. They 
are, in truth, of such as make the stamina and 
staple of the most refined societ}^” 

Each day opened out to Clarisse and Dick new 
hopes, and enlarged the horizon of a brighter future 
far more promising than either had at first dared 
to dream. Mr Severance was involved inextricably 
in all their youthful plans. They would take no 


298 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


refusal on his part to join their amusements. 
With pride, and the charming grace of an old 
school gentleman, he always assisted Clarisse to 
receive at her ‘'At homes,” imparting thereto a 
lustre and dignity not one carper could discount. 

Edith had, in natural sequence, become a regular 
institution in the home circle ; nothing was com- 
plete or rounded out to the full without her 
presence. Her rare, fine sensitiveness made her 
know beyond peradventure, that she “ was as one 
among the rest ; ” yet her individuality or personal 
independence were never disturbed nor conflicted 
with in the slightest degree. Mr Severance per- 
sonally found great solace in her companionship, 
for she was more of the world than was Clarisse. 
As he used to say jocosely : 

“ She is an example of an improved method — no 
one has patented — of welding steel and gold and 
woman together.” 

One unfortunate day, when she stood gazing out 
of the window in his library, he sat watching her 
from his desk, and chanced to notice a shade of 
sadness overcast her face, which prompted him to 
ask, with great tenderness : — 

“ Why your sadness. Miss Longstreth ? ” She, 
amazed and in her confusion, shook her head with- 
out a word. 

Not to be put off by this meagre negation, he 
continued, “ Miss Longstreth, pardon the question, 
but why have you never married ? ” 

Her face suffused crimson. She started as if 


EDITH'S SECRET. 


299 


some one bad dealt he. an untoward blow. She 
turned and looked searchingly at him, ‘'Mr Sever- 
ance, what prompts you to ask me this just 
now ? ” 

“ W ell, if I must answer, because when you 
think you are unobserved I have noticed that you 
often look sad and dejected. Just now you looked 
especially so. You do nothing without a reason, 
and it has occurred to me that you have reason 
for your sorrow, and I fancy as well some unhappy 
reason for remaining single.” 

“ Yes, Mr Severance, you have truly divined. I 
have a great sorrow, which I will confess to you 
has tinged my mature years with sombre repinings, 
and, worse than all, with distrust.” She passed her 
hand with evident pressure across her forehead 
several times, gave a resolute twitch to her head, 
and, with a forced smile, added : “ But shame upon 
me for this weakness. I make a rule nevei to 
allow myself to play the sniveller, and whine about 
by-gones. . . . Fact is. I’ve been too lazy lately, 
that’s the mischief. Just now the association of 
ideas, like the scales on a serpent’s body, over- 
lapped, and folded in and out, one upon and with 
another, till I came upon the venomous fangs 
of the old regret. You found me out, unarmed ! 
See, I can shake off the mood in a trice ! ” She 
drew herself up with renewed resolution, and again 
forced a strained smile, meaningless and purposeless 
in effect, but brave and womanly. 

Mr Severance arose, walked across the room to 


800 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


her side, shook his head in admonition, looked 
squarely into her eyes, and said gently : 

My dear child, that kind of mastery costs you 
undue suffering. Don’t do it. I have long yearned 
to speak to you and proffer my sympathy, not 
with the idea of intruding upon your confidence 
or seeking to fathom your trials, but as one whose 
own life has been masked to shield himself from 
the hurtful invidious eyes of the world upon his 
sorrows, and possibly his sins as well. In brief, my 
dear child, solitary man that I am in many respects, 
I have selfishly, perhaps, craved a sterling companion- 
ship, and I have humanly argued that possibly if 
you could repose confidence in some one — pardon 
the egotism which leads me to say, like myself — 
who would stand without the invisible barrier when 
you sought to seclude yourself unmolested even by 
that one, it might be a comfort to you. Am I 
mistaken ? ” 

“ Not entirely, Mr Severance,” she frankly 
responded, ‘‘ but my principle in life is to shoulder 
to the bitter end my own personal burdens and 
bear them bravely, although the weight gradually 
crushes me into the grave.” Then with the sparkle 
of her normal self-assertion and enmantled in 
abnegation, she looked him unflinchingly in the 
face, and uttered in the metallic voice of a herald, 
“ Courage in silence, strength in calamity, hope in 
woe, are my cardinal tenets of faith. My motto, 
as you know, is Labor Omnia Vincit. At the 
root of laziness or the indolence of introspection 


Edith’s secret. 


801 


sprouts a crop of baneful weeds. Bless us, poor 
sinners, every mortal has some hardship. But, 
after all, life has many bright compensations. I 
think with Hamlet, ^ For there is nothing either 
good or had, hut t?dnJcing makes it so* Accord- 
ingly I shall think I’m perfectly and unreservedly 
happy, and, presto. I’ll be happy I Out, out upon 
morbidness ! ” 

Evidently the turn the conversation had taken 
rather disappointed Herbert Severance. In a dis- 
concerted halting way, minus that quality of 
excellent persistence with which a younger man 
might have carried his point, he said with a 
sigh: 

Alas, I fear I have stupidly blundered. 
Henceforth you will be on guard, to conceal or 
belittle the tenor of your moods, lest I may strive 
to solve their import. I am more than sorry, for 
I enjoy beyond expression your utter natural- 
ness.” .... 

She interrupted him : 

“ Have no apprehensions, I beg you, Mr Sever- 
ance, I shall ever be the same as heretofore in my 
attitude before you. This much I will promise 
you, that, if I ever feel my fortitude enfeebled, I 
shall seek you out wdth thankfulness, and * unpack 
my heart with words* ** 

*'Miss Longstreth, to say thank you, would be 
inane and hackneyed, but I do earnestly assure 
you, to be the recipient of your confidence will be 
at all times extremely flattering to me.” 


802 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


Then turning the subject, he seemed as another 
man. A certain inexorable expression made his 
countenance most forbidding. 

“ Miss Longstreth, did you perchance meet 
Count De La Rue at the convent where you met 
Clarisse ? ” 

Edith turned pallid, fairly staggered, as she 
grasped both of Mr Severance’s arms above the 
elbow, stared with frowning brows up into his 
face, and just managed to articulate : 

“ In mercy’s name ! why do you ash that ques- 
tion nowl You beset me, Mr Severance.” 

Come, sit down. Compose yourself, and I will 
tell you freely.” He sat her down, and drew a 
chair alongside her. He was indeed abashed and 
astonished by her unlooked-for display of emotion. 
She did not look at him as he proceeded : 

“You cannot certainly account it strange, that 
I am anxious to know what stamp of man Count 
De La Rue is generally considered, inasmuch as 
circumstances conspired to place Clarisse under his 
unrestricted influence for so many years — years, 
too, when her character was in a formative state. 
Moreover, I liave many private reasons for dis- 
trusting the man. Sometimes of late I have 
thought that he had designs, not altogether 
honourable, upon her. Surely, in your long 
intimacy with Clarisse, you must have seen 
him ? ” 

He paused to give her the chance to answer. 
In blank silence she stared fixedly at the carpet. In 


Edith’s secret. 


803 


a moment he continued, although embarrassed by 
her air of abstraction : 

Possibly, Miss Longs treth, you have heard 
through some avenue the slanderous rumours that 
the dastardly Count De La Rue has set abrew, 
through his valiant emissary, that young scape-grace 
Jasper Rodgers ? ” 

Yes,” she faintly answered, I have heard 
many very compromising stories, not only about 
Clarisse, but, pardon me, sir, about you also.” 

Miss Longstreth, you will doubtless admit that, 
in my long practised profession, I have gained some 
powers of discernment — some unwritten knowledge 
of deduction, therefore, I hope I am not over- 
stepping the mark when I intimate that your 
conduct, to all appearances, exposes you to the 
supposition that you are more deeply concerned 
in Count De La Rue than my recent query would 
naturally imply ! ” 

She was taken unawares, and looked confused and 
guilty of being at least found out, if only at the 
barrier, still found out. 

In heaven’s name, tell me frankly. Miss Long- 
streth, am I right ? ” 

Without an instant’s faltering, without a politic 
pause to collect herself, but boldly and truthfully, 
this grand woman replied : 

“Mr Severance, you are right, I am concerned 
in Count De La Rue. He it was who played with 
my affections until all faith in human constancy 
has been uprooted, and in its place has sprung up 


804 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


an imperishable unbelief. Let me say in justice to 
myself that this man, who was the age of my father, 
this man who is a genius of no small order, even 
renowned in both continents, was most charming 
to me. He fascinated me so completely in the 
flush of my girlish enthusiasm and natural impres- 
sionability that he became my beau ideal, . . . 
However, be that as it may, he was heartless, and 
set no store on my feelings. . . . I, as other women 
before and since, served to amuse \\\m pour passer 
Le tempSy and in the end found I was cruelly hurt. 
There is something so warped, a quality so inhar- 
monious in his character which I have never been 
able to define. . . She paused, half inclined to stop, 
but during the momentary lapse of silence decided 
to proceed. You should know, Mr Severance, 
that the abnegating devotion he has ever exhi- 
bited towards Clarisse, reveals a latent, noble trait 
in his nature worthy of a more whole-souled man. 
I never was able to evoke from him why he was 
thus wrapt up in the child. I used to think there 
was an ugly mystery hidden beyond my ken. 
When I fully realised his perfidy and his heartless 
insincerity to me, I became doubly interested in 
Clarisse’s welfare.” 

Mr Severance broke in upon her, saying warmly, 
“ For which. Miss Longstreth, I am ineffably 
grateful.” 

“ Wait a moment, Mr Severance, I do not 
deserve so much. At first my adherence to 
Clarisse was actuated by my terror lest he should 


EDITfl^S SECRET, 


305 


possibly be base enough to play the wanton with 
her affections. I was jealous of him at this time. 
I guarded her with avenging watchfulness over 
him. However, he was truly noble and pure in 
his devotion to her. To this day she knows naught 
of our old attachment, nor even that I knew him 
before going to the convent. When it was decided 
that she should come to America, he threatened to 
follow her. I have no doubt she saw him that 
ominous night in the garden. He is at present 
in New York. This morning I received a note 
from Jasper Eodgers, in which he states, with brutal 
plainness amounting to coarseness, that Count De 
La Rue has narrated to him a racy scandal concern- 
ing you and Clarisse, and that I as an innocent 
party should at once sever my connection with a 
family who will very soon be hauled over in the 
annals of the police gazette. . . 

“ Shameless coward ! How dare he lisp one 
word against Clarisse ! My God, it is insufferable ! 
I fear I shall do some rash act ! ” He was frantic 
through rage. 

“Mr Severance, will you allow me to suggest 
that you lose no time in settling these rumours 
with these cowards, which you only can do with 
ungloved hands ? If needs be for your family’s 
protection, seek redress of the law, but suppress 
at once the slanderous innuendoesthese fellows are 
guilty of delivering, now uncurbed, at the clubs they 
frequent. I should suppose it would not be diffi- 
cult now that you know absolutely the parties.” She 
u 


306 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


pondered a moment, then added with regret : ** I 
could not have believed that Count De La Rue 
could have resorted to such a degraded course. It 
does not seem possible, for with all his failings and 
iniquities he never seemed coarse and low.” 

Alas ! human nature, especially woman’s nature, 
clings with rare tenacity to the objects of affection 
although only a memory. A woman can find some 
palliation for even heinous crimes, or baseless excuses 
for ignoble tendencies, albeit she has learnt to 
despise the man ; a certain pride and amour 'pro'pre 
in defending what has once been cherished ; a 
glozing over faults which tax the acuteness of her 
own penetration if viewed in the glare of the 
unsoftened light of truth. Women forgive, aye, 
and shield, although they may not forget. Benefi- 
cent trait of womanliness, to hold aloof from hard 
logic. 

Why do you not see Count De La Rue ? ” 
Edith plied the question with a certain archness 
that arrested Mr Severance’s attention. 

Well, I’ve no objections, but I fear it will be 
a very disastrous interview. Will you be shocked 
to learn that Clarisse has exacted a promise from 
me to kill Count De La Rue ” He watched her 
beneath his brows with the stealthiness of a cat, 
as he pronounced these words. She intuitively 
felt his gaze, although her eyes were averted, and 
held in check any betraying emotion induced as 
she spoke. 

'' He is a dapster with weapons. Any encounter 


Edith’s secret. 


807 


of which he might be forewarned, even with his 
peer, I apprehend, Mr Severance, would result in a 
murderous struggle, in which he most likely would 
be victor. Pray, sir, is there no law to redress 
such wrongs without murder ? ” A subtle horror 
had crept over her face, she lipped but did not 
articulate above her breath the last words. The 
wicked import had loomed up beyond any palpable 
dissemblance. It would be murder in the full 
comprehension of the deed. 

** Call it what you will, Miss Longstreth, I’m in 
no mood to bandy words on this topic. I avow 
that to me there are some crimes the penalty of 
the law does not cope with to the full. Each 
individual wronged must decide and act for him- 
self. There are certain legal sophistries which 
moral arguments may sustain in general, but the 
injured party revolts against their paucity.” 

** My soul spurns such extreme, perilous methods. 
The entire social structure would be a wreck with 
such views. I should personally rather endure till 
death the worst wrong, than defile my soul by such 
crime ! ” She hurled these words at Mr Severance 
with scathing upbraiding. He regretted his unwise 
unleashing of hidden thoughts. The evil was done. 
How recant with sufficient guise of earnestness, not 
to excite in her the suspicion that he strained the 
truth merely to appease her. 

‘‘After all, Miss Longstreth,” he calmly said, 
“ you are perfectly correct. One ought, if rational, 
to consider such a vital matter dispassionately. 


308 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


Just now I foolishly gave full rein to my slumber- 
ing emotion. The fact is, for some time my 
feelings have been unduly taxed. The stress of 
late upon my fortitude has been extremely severe.” 
Although coherent, his sentences were jerky and 
curt. 

Mr Severance, our conversation has made me 
very unhappy. I think it would be just as well if 
I absent myself from your household for the time 
being, that is, if I can do so without creating 
undesirable comment from outsiders, or arouse 
Clarisse’s and Dick’s suspicions.” 

She did not propound this, to witness what 
effect it might produce, nor to evoke protestations 
from Mr Severance, but with native straightforward 
seriousness. 

Very well. Miss Longstreth. Much as I should 
regret such a step, depriving us of your presence, — 
indeed you have grown indispensable to the com- 
pleteness of our family circle, — I have no wish to 
have you remain when you are unhappy. You 
must follow the dictates of your own judgment. 
By-the-bye, how about Henry Bacon’s wedding at 
New Rochelle, which you young people were to 
attend, is that off the docket ? ” 

“ Oh, no. The wedding is to take place on the 
evening of the 9 th of this month, and the reception 
is sensibly to be given by the newly-married couple 
in their own home on the succeeding evening. I 
will accompany Clarisse. Afterward, I can con- 
sisteitly plan to make a voyage to Europe, return- 


EDITH'S SECKET. 


809 


ing in ample season for Clarisse’s wedding. In the 
meantime, Mr Severance, let me importune you to 
forget that we have had this conversation.” She 
was about to leave the room, when he addressed 
her in a much broken voice. 

‘‘ Miss Longstreth, 1 esteem your fealty to my 
daughter too highly to feel exonerated in my own 
mind from the blame which arises from the fact 
that aught I have said has pained. Will you for- 
give me?” 

Bless you ! my dear, dear, good friend, it is me 
who should be suing for pardon at your feet ! The 
disparity* of our ages, the circumstances, all things 
considered, should have sufficed to spare you from 
my wayward opinions. Let it be all cancelled.” 

Great-hearted woman, she had the spirit to brave 
through any personal trouble but the thought ot‘ 
having wounded one of whom she was fond, filled 
her with deep contrition. Somehow she felt she 
was standing in a false light in Mr Severance s 
estimation, and that her character was distorted by 
some inverse process. 

He, too, thought by some stupid blunder that 
he must have impressed Miss Longstreth with a 
false idea of himself. 

They were both at such imaginary counter- 
purposes, they tacitly felt that further conversa- 
tion doubtless would but complicate their present 
dilemma. 

“ One word, Miss Longstreth, despite your 
opinion of me, I must entreat you to ever love 


310 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


and cherish Clarisse. She is, as you know, a pure, 
lovely child, entitled to the most honoured position. 
She deserves the staunchest friendship of the purest 
women. Whatever have been my sins, my short- 
comings, I assure you there should be no reflection 
cast upon her. Will you promise me this ? ” 

‘‘ No, not as a promise to you,” she replied in a 
spirit of feigned resentment. ** I owe all that, and 
more, to Clarisse, without placing myself in bondage. 
You see, Mr Severance, I strive to be loyal to my 
friends, each one for himself, without co-operative 
bonds to hold me fast ! ” 

“ Chivalrous woman ! ” exclaimed Mr Severance. 

She laughed, and passed out of the room, re- 
luctant to hear or utter another word. 


CHAPTER XXL 


jasper’s calamity. 

“ Thou cam’st not to thy place by accident.” 


Q uick as possible, Edith, after quitting Mr 
Severance, equipped herself for the street, 
determined upon seeing Mrs Bleecker, to confide to 
her the import of the note she had received from 
Jasper Rodgers, and take the little ladys advice 
thereupon. 

Hurrying along the street, much occupied with 
her own thoughts, she met Edward Kingston. His 
face was the picture of a great worry. He was 
walking at such a rapid rate, that he almost passed 
Edith before observing who she was. 

After an informal, hasty salutation, he exclaimed 
very abruptly : — 

“ Are you going past that corner ? ” 

“Yes, on my way to Mrs Bleecker’s.” 

“ For God’s sake ! don’t go that way. Miss 
Longstreth ; a drunken man has fallen over the 
railings of the hotel, and it is supposed he has 
broken his neck ! Turn aside ! The sight is too 
appalling.” His agitation indicated more than 
ordinary horror. 


312 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


“ Do you know who it is ? ” Like a flash she put 
this question. His hesitation prompted a suspicion, 
she urged : “ Tell me, is it any person we know ? 
If you do not answer, I’ll go straight to the spot, 
and find out for myself.” 

Still he hesitated. She bent her steps in the 
direction of the hotel, where a buzzing crowd had 
collected. He saw evasion was useless. 

“ Yes, unfortunately we know the poor ruined 
fellow too well. It is Jasper Rodgers.” 

“ Jasper Rodgers ! No, no, you must be mis- 
taken ! I had a letter from him this noon. Oh, 
Mr Kingston, it cannot be.” 

Alas, Miss Longstreth, it is too true. I was 
just emerging from the chemist’s, when he staggered 
out of a coiijpi, and before my very eyes, reeled 
head first over the railing in front of the hotel, 
twenty feet or more, down to the stone pavement 
of the area below ! He now lies there lifeless, a 
pitiful heap of degraded humanity ! ” 

Mr Kingston, I feel half guilty, for my hand 
was raised menacingly against that man. Through 
a singular coincidence, I was just on my way to 
Mrs Bleecker’s, to solicit her clear judgment as to 
how I should act in reference to an insinuating, 
ungentlemanly note he presumed to write to me.” 

Fact is. Miss Longstreth, Jasper has been in a 
bad way for some weeks, — the worse for drink, 
sinking into a continuous state of dissipation and 
sottishness. He had become violently quarrelsome. 
Then, with utter shamelessness as to his condition. 


JASPER'S CALAMITY. 


813 


he stubbornly kept presenting himself at clubs, 
where he was certain to be summarily turned out. 
For a few days past he has been on an unusually 
terrific spree — lost to shame — into no end of 
vulgar rows. We have all tried our level best to 
dissuade him from his ruinous course, but every 
effort on our part has tended to aggravate him, and 
excite him to unheard-of outrages. Last night, for 
example, a gentleman who had purchased one of 
Jasper’s best pictures, a real gem in itself, whilst 
yet in the studio, asked Jasper to put his chiffre 
higher up on the canvas. Certainly not an un- 
reasonable request. Without one word, he slashed 
a cross through the centre of the picture with his 
palette-knife, and turning jeeringly to his patron, 
asked, * How do you like my mark of genius 1 ’ ” 

'"What a pity, what a pity,” compassionately 
murmured Miss Longstreth, " I cannot but feel 
thaV if he had been understood or managed he 
might have been influenced for better things. 1 
don’t believe in utter depravity. He had two 
sides to his nature. He had fine artistic appre- 
ciation of the beautiful. His pictures were often 
inspired. In view of these attributes, I cannot 
believe that he was doomed to be damned.” 

“ Bah ! Miss Longstreth, don’t waste your breath 
on him. He was a bad egg, no good. Bound to 
go to perdition in spite of everything. He was 
unbearable once he began to spree, insulted every- 
body right and left. No use, the sooner such 
creatures get to the eud of their tether the better/* 


314 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


“ How bitter hard we all are against the down- 
fallen. How can we dare hope for mercy. Our 
present vaunted enlightenment don’t soften our 
hearts, I fear. . . . Had Mr Rodgers no im- 
mediate family ? ” 

His genealogy and early life are a complete 
mystery to all of his intimates. He was supposed 
to have been born in the West Indies, and anon it 
was whispered among the club-men, because of his 
fiery temper, that he had a trace of Portuguese 
blood in his veins. But it is all mere speculation. 
He always railed out against a boastful genealogy, 
advancing the statement that bis family should be 
of his own election,” 

“ Had he a private fortune ? ” 

Apart from the handsome revenue his profes- 
sion brought him, he must have been in the enjoy- 
ment of some considerable means, for he squandered 
money recklessly, and never was known to be 
strapped. His independence on this score made 
him all the more incorrigible, for he never was on 
the footing of a borrower to be brought up at a 
round turn by a refusal.” 

At this stage of their conversation, they had 
reached Mr Severance’s' dwelling. Mr Kingston 
expressed the desire to see Dick at once, and if 
Miss Longstreth thought it probable that he would 
be there, perhaps, under the circumstance, the 
breach of etiquette might be pardonable if he 
called. 

Dick was there. . . . After the consternation 


jasper’s calamity. 


815 


over Jasper's disaster had somewhat abated, the 
young men conferred together as to the proper 
steps necessary in order to care decently for Jasper, 
in event that there was no claim made for his 
remains. He had been their former comrade, 
therefore they desired to do the right thing by 
him apart from recent animosity. 

That revulsion of feeling which comes to all 
when death has fallen upon one in our midst, 
when every harsh word or severe criticism is re- 
gretted, came to this little group of young folk. 
Mr Severance entered the room where they were 
assembled, and heard the shocking details. Per- 
ceiving the turn their feelings were disposed to 
take, he came out blunt and strong upon the 
subject. 

“ Do be consistent, my youthful sympathisers. 
Remember this one thing, the man’s character is 
no better or worse because of this doleful accident 
than it was previously. I think there is a per- 
nicious tendency to indulge in a puerile sentimen- 
tality now-a-days. I, for one, have the most im- 
mutable contempt for Mr Jasper Rodgers as a 
character, dead or alive. Society is well quit of 
such a parody of a man before he does any more 
mischief. Don’t suppose I desire to interfere with 
a humane and decent burial, but I should stipu- 
late, if I had any voice in the affair, that there be no 
nonsensical prating to extenuate his faults, no 
panegyrical exaggerations of virtues, which he had 
long out-lived, if ever he had any. If I was a 


316 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


clergyman, I could portray a graphic moral out 
of the sure and swift damnation of such a 
calamitous life as his has been.” 

His speech was acrid. Jasper’s sudden death had 
not propitiated him. The wicked venom with which 
the dead man had so lately beslimed over Clarisse’s 
fair name, with evil intent, would live and be 
revived by those busy social dwarfs, who fetch and 
carry with indefatigable diligence, worthy a better 
occupation, the tit-bits, the gamey morsels, to cater 
to the unwholesome appetite of ghoulish scandal- 
mongers and gossips. He did not forget, he 
could not forgive. 

The evening journals contained a sensational 
leader on the frightful and fatal accident which 
had befallen the distinguished, well-known painter 
and habitue of the haut monde, Mr Jasper 
Kodgers. Then followed a long list of his most 
meritorious pictures, comments of a dubious tone 
on the mystery of his life, his late dissipation, and 
finally the amount of his life-insurance, $50,000, 
and surmises as to the amount of his personal for- 
tune and assets, ending by a request that any and 
all relatives would oblige the committee of gentle- 
men in charge of the funeral obsequies by commu- 
nicating at once to the secretary of the Artists’ 
Club. 

The ensuing morning, the newspapers were harp- 
ing in extenso upon the lamentable affair, — new 
developments, clue to previous mystery, &c., &c. 
All sorts of opinions were advanced, not devoid of 


jasper's calamity. 


317 


a certain cleverness, although generally unsubstan- 
tiated, as to the dead man’s private life and early 
history. 

Comically enough, there were in all thirteen 
maternal applications made by letter, or telegraph, 
or in person, by Widows Rodgers,” who, each and 
every one, claimed to possess indisputable proofs that 
he was her long lost son. The various body-marks 
described to identify him would have illustrated 
copiously a Japanese book on tatooing. It was a 
fine snare to be unravelled. However, amongst his 
private papers was found a regular will, executed 
and properly signed in due legal form, and of recent 
date. It was an irrefutable document, mothers 
or no mothers, unless that medico-legal see-saw 
— insanity — was instituted, Fortunately the riot- 
ous rackets of a drunken man could not be set 
down to insanity in this case. His eccentricities, 
and the sequences thereof, might be reasonably 
charged to idiotic obstinacy, for no rational free 
agent would deliberately pursue such a course of 
debauchery, but no jury could justly render a 
verdict that Jasper Rodgers was insane. Hence 
the adventitious mothers, with their borrowed grief, 
were one and aU defeated. 

Jasper’s will did even him great credit. It con- 
doned measurably for many of his shortcomings. 
After his funeral, — which he stipulated should be 
unostentatious, from the “ Little Church round 
THE Corner,” — and his personal debts were paid. 

*‘I bequeath all my cash deposits, stock, and 


318 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


real estate investments (here followed a full list 
and memoranda) to the Society of Impecunious 
Painters, the same to be delivered without useless 
delay. I bequeath all my unsold paintings to Mrs 
Rachel Bleecker, to sell for the benefit of the 
Foundling Hospital under her auspices, except the 
sketch of herself, made from memory, which I 
bequeath to the Hospital. My life-insurance 
money, assured by my demise — how droll — to be 
put in the hands of six trustees, hereafter men- 
tioned, as an endowment fund, to defray the 
expenses and remunerate, by an equal division 
of the sum total, two scientific physicians of note, 
who must devote two years each to the serious 
investigation of hereditary dipsomania and its 
cure. 

‘‘ Note. — Because drink has been my life-long 
curse, — a curse I could avoid for a time, hut never 
completely escape, — I bequeath this particidar 
money, which is as Death's prize, to be devoted to 
this research, in behalf of other poor devils simi- 
larly afflicted. 

“ To my toleraters, my apologies. 

‘‘ To my enemies, my biography. 

“Jasper Rodgers.” 

“ Witnessed by — 

Wm. Brown, Sexton. 

Jno. Jones, Janitor.” 


CHAPTER XXII. 


aOD, MAN, AND DEVIL. 


“ Some tempest rise 

And blow out all the stars that light the skies, 

To shroud my shame,” 

“ It was the wild midnight, 

A storm was on the sky ; 

The lightning gave its light. 

And thunder echoed by.” 

H enry bacon’s wedding festivities had 
attracted the young people, leaving the 
house quite deserted. With grave solemnity 
Herbert Severance sat at his desk scanning an 
open note. 


September Qth. 

“Mr Severance, 

Dear Sir, — I hope that you will not disregard my request 
for an interview in the privacy of your own library, or wher- 
ever you may appoint, any date after September 10th. I 
make the request, desirous of having the long-sought oppor- 
tunity of acquitting myself of a sacred behest. 

“ Armande de la Eub.” 

“ Humph ! what can he be driving at ? ” 
contemptuously ejaculated Herbert Severance. 
‘‘ Sacred I Indeed, the varlet does not know the 


320 


fiERBtJRT severance. 


primary meaning of the word. . . . However, 1 11 
accede. Better, far better have it over whilst the 
girls and Dick are absent. To-morrow will be 
the 11th, and I’ll despatch a letter making an 
appointment here for to-morrow.” In accordance 
with this plan he wrote : — 

“ September lOth. 

“ Count de la Eue. 

‘‘ Sir, — Yours received. Contents noted. Agreeable to 
your request I have concluded to make an appointment for 
to-morrow evening, September 11th, at 9.30 o’clock, at my 
residence. — Hastily, “ Herbert Severance.” 

He laid his letter aside, and once more con- 
templated De La Rue’s letter. 

Yes, I have distinctly read it. No mistake 
whatever. Ah, well. I’ll post my answer the last 
thing to-night myself.” 

He took from his pocket a bunch of keys, and 
began to unlock the priv \te drawers in his desk. 
“ Ah, it is meet that I put my house in order. 
One never knows when the hour has struck. It 
makes not a jot of difference when, if one is only 
prepared.” Thus he kept incessantly muttering 
to himself, as if he talked with immaterialised visi- 
tants who flitted before his mental vision, as he set 
about arranging his papers in neat packets, labelling 
each and every lot in the most methodical manner, 
with an inventorial list of the subject matter. 

The night was extraordinarily wild and stormy, 
full of clanging booms of volleying thunder. 
Dazzling sheets of lightning followed with such 


GOD, MAN, AND DfiVlL. 


S21 


rapi<l, blinding succession, the very heavens seemed 
on fire. Oceans of water descended with such 
unabated rush, it seemed the entire earth must 
surely dissolve and be washed away to nothingness. 
More and more deafening crashed the thunderbolts, 
echoing forth menace to all mundane strongholds, 
and danger hung over all, as though held only 
momentarily in check by Supreme Power. 

The storm’s prolonged violence in time attracted 
the thoughtful man’s attention. He rose to take a 
casual glance out of the window. An untempered 
hurricane bellowed down with breath of anger upon 
and across the entire town, relentlessly tossing, 
bowing, and dismembering huge trees, with pro- 
digious havoc. Gazing out upon its manifest fury, 
he experienced a measure of solicitude for the safety 
of his solid dwelling. He fancied that he felt 
it rock, or at least felt the vibration caused by 
the successive shocks of battering branches and 
storm-wrenched timbers from adjacent buildings, as 
they crashed through the air, and resoundingly 
struck the pavement, or sent window sashes and 
panes shivering into a thousand clattering frag- 
ments. Shutters beat a mutinous alarm, banging 
rudely to and fro against the houses, every now and 
again, with such rudeness as to wrest their hinges 
loose from the masonry, and then vault like some 
dead -fall through the air. 

** Superb ! Magnificent storm ! ” exclaimed he. 

Jove’s artillery seems to wage a war d V outrance ! 
Superb ! Superb ! ” He stood holding the curtains 
X 


822 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


outspread as he gazed up to the lowering storm-be- 
blazoned heaven in admiration of the maddened 
element. Involuntarily he repeated from his never- 
failing favourite, in rather a dramatic tone : — 

“ ‘ Now storming fury rose, 

And clamour, such as heard in heaven till now 
Was never ; arms on armour clashing brayed 
Horrible discord, and the maddening wheels 
Of brazen chariots raged ; dire was the noise 
Of conflict ; overhead the dismal hiss 
Of fiery darts in flaming volleys flew, 

And flying vaulted either host with fire, 

So under fiery cope together rushed 
Both battles main, with ruinous assault 
And inextinguishable rage. All heaven 
Resounded ; and had earth been there, all earth 
Had to her centre shook.’ ” 

He opened the window, and stood upon the 
balcony, the rain dashing into his face, the wind 
snorting about him like a water dragon. It seemed 
to accord with his humour. However, he was driven 
to hasty retreat. Whilst securing the window 
fastenings and spreading the curtain, he finished 
the quotation : — 


“ ‘ Deeds of eternal fame 
Were done, but infinite: for wide was spread 
A standing fight ; then soaring on main wing. 
Tormenting all the air ; all air seemed then 
Conflicting fire.’ ” 

He sat some moments engrossed in thought be- 
fore resuming his task. His countenance gaining 


GOD, MAN, AND DEVIL. 


an expression of thoughtful concentration, became 
in the end deeply troubled. His retrospective mood, 
incited by reviewing his private papers, recalled a 
host of heart-breaking reminiscences that he would 
gladly have obliterated eternally from his con- 
sciousness. With a long drawn sigh his thoughts 
culminated in a determined purpose. 

What use to hold and keep documentary evidences, 
which some day might so readily be misconstrued, 
and certainly, in event of his death, would beyond 
contravention, breed all manner of undesirable 
ideas, to torture poor innocent Clarisse ? . . . He 
wrought himself into the conviction that he had 
indisputably transgressed, even had passively sinned 
against the writer of all these treasured letters he 
now pondered over, by his selfish tardiness in de- 
stroying them long ago. He concluded to amend 
his sin of omission by destroying at once every 
vestige of the compromising testimony therein 
contained. 

A testimony, taken all in all, viewed from a 
point of outlook which commanded the entire 
premises — the actuating circumstances — the pros 
and cons — resulting in a charitable and most 
merciful verdict. To the contrary, taken from an 
extraneous view, apart from sympathy or personal 
consideration, the judgment necessarily must be 
harsh and condemnatory, blotting the fair repute 
of the woman, damning his own manliness. 

He scrupled no longer. No more haggling be- 
tween sentiment and duty. The papers should be 


324 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


all, all, destrojed by one fell swoop. Not one 
solitary scrap should be left to betray or compromise 
the dead or the living. He would take no more 
chances by an unwarrantable self-indulgence of 
sentiment. No, no, his child’s happiness should 
henceforth be his first consideration. 

Notwithstanding all his resolutions he struggled, 
despite himself, to conquer his whilom sentiment, 
as he fingered over and contemplated the delicately 
inscribed sheets of paper redolent with sandlewood, 
the dainty old-fashioned embossed envelopes, cut at 
the ends to preserve the device of the seals, bearing 
foreign postmarks and far away dates,; so far 
away, and yet now, whilst he viewed them, bis 
entire past life seemed to vividly cycle through the 
most unfrequented avenues of memory, and become 
as of the present. 

A withered flower, pressed, brittle, and dis- 
coloured, but retaining a vague suggestion of its 
former perfume, floated to the floor from atween 
the letter pages. His lips quivered, his hands 
dropped upon his knees, clutching convulsively 
these confessional winding-sheets of dead hopes, 
dead loves, perished flowers. 

How he hung upon these trifling instigators of 
memory, just as if he dreaded to pluck the thorns 
out from his soul where they had festered, where 
he had hidden them with miserly jealousy for so 
many sorrowful years. . . . They were sacred 
horrors, guarded from the profaning sight of 
mortals with reverential idolatry. ... To discard 


GOD, MAN, AND DEVIL. 


325 


them appeared almost to betoken inconstancy, as 
well as a species of sacrilege. 

Lamentable and lamenting sturdy man of sound 
common sense faltering in this wise, when he had 
concluded as to the rights of the case. . . . Why 
procrastinate ? This was the accepted hour. Were 
his sentiments betraying him into fresh irresolu- 
tions ? 

Suddenly, as a man who had gathered himself 
to close invincibly with an enemy, he was at last 
ready for action. 

Crumpling up a handful of letters taken pro- 
miscuously from the lot, he lit a taper and set fire 
to them. His expression, his nervous clutch, im- 
plied the exercise of unusual will-power in this 
immolation. Every nerve quivered in a dumb 
agony, as he held the crackling, crinkling, smoking 
mass, and guarded the flames. The devouring, 
licking tongues of fire, lapped with appetite, curled 
about, charring and blackening into ragged bits the 
twisted paper. Every now and anon the lurid 
transparency of the consumed tissue revealed vivid 
tracings of the writing caused by the fusion of 
the ink. Boldly, in phosphorescent hue, as the 
spectre of the written thoughts would loom up, 
clearly decipherable, the words, the charmed 
words, darling,'' ^^forgiveness," Herbert," ^'love," 
** death," then fragmentary parts of words twined 
like tendrils through the flames, finally, as though 
self-consumed by their own ardour, they would fade, 
to be lost for ever to mortal sight, to mortal ken. 


326 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


These burning letters rekindled in his soul the 
old hatred for De La Rue, restimulated an un- 
quenched thirst to avenge the wrongs done his 
dead, his sacrificed wife, and put himself right in 
the eyes of his accusing daughter. He was stirred 
by strange, desperate resolves. His soul was 
quickened alike by love and hate. His oath 
seemed holy. 

The fierce, tempestuous storm without, the 
rattling, blaring thunder, the blaze of smiting and 
smitten lightning shafts, the downpouring of un- 
pent torrents, suddenly released from sundered 
clouds, were not more furious than the terrible 
mortal rage which agitated him. 

The last bunch of letters burned, he drew from 
his breast pocket the square ominous document 
he had given Dick to read, containing his wife's 
dying confession. Force of habit when he saw it, 
prompted as a stage cue his usual quotation ; — 


“ Meanwhile, the heinous and despiteful act 
Of Satan done in Paradise 


In Heaven.” 


Was known 


He resolutely burnt this also. HolJhing but 
tell-taleless ashes remained. All was done save 
the one deed, the crucial deed — the penalty re- 
quiring De La Rue’s life, or the forfeiture of his 
own — the fulfilment of his oath. 

Blackstone’s precepts, known to him by heart, 
appeared utterly devoid of applicability in his case. 
His case was eminently one in whjph his own 


GOD, MAN, AND DEVIL. 


827 


convictions must rule, despite the inflexibility of 
criminal law. There were no circumstantial evi- 
dences, no extenuatiog circumstances, nothing but 
remorseless, wicked design on the part of De La 
Rue to spread ruin, to destroy not only his happi- 
ness, but to sully the fair name of his adored wife. 
The law, however, takes no true cognizance of the 
heart-break pain endured by the outraged victim, 
neitfier is there any legal measure of restitution it 
can dole out to allay the sickening ache whicli 
gnaws beneath the surface like a canker, whilst 
life and memory last. Plutarch could not have 
been wise in the dilemma of like woe. 

Once again he perused De La Rue's note, and 
burned that too. He opened the letter he had 
written in response to con its contents, apprehensive 
that he might have written indiscreetly. After 
scanning it, he exclaimed with satisfaction : 

“There, that’s terse enough. Rather awkward 
to appoint an interview in one’s own house to meet 
an arch-enemy, yet it precluded eavesdroppers. I 
must guard against any overt act, at least while 
he is here. But I’ll warn him most explicitly, 
there shall be no misunderstanding as to what are 
my intentions. Then he must look out for him 
self. It will be war on sight afterward, war d 
V outrance. ’’ So he mused. 

Without, the storm continued with unabated 
violence ; the wind rose higher and higher, till all 
space was filled with deep significant rumbling and 
ear-splitting shrieks, as it rebelliously traversed at 
a crazy velocity the town ! 


328 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


A sudden gust ! One of the windows facing the 
garden burst open with a crash ! 

Herbert Severance sprang forward to close it. 
The curtain was rudely cast aside. There stood 
Count De La Rue ! Dripping wet, bearing the 
aspect of some eldritch demon of the elements who 
had ridden on the untamed hurricane to do some 
unholy deed. There he stood, enveloped in a long 
domino, unexpected, unannounced, unwelcomed. 

With the alertness of a cat, he closed the win- 
dow behind him, before Herbert Severance had 
recovered his presence of mind, and dropped his 
wet cloak and hat in a heap to the floor, revealing 
a casket he carried strapped to his hip. 

“ Well, sir ! How dare you intrude here un- 
bidden, like a murderous thief in the middle of the 
night ? ” demanded Herbert Severance in a depre- 
catory indignant manner, as he doubled his fist to 
strike. 

“ Patience, monsieur, patience ! Because I dare 
revancher a wrong ! Because I have the courage of 
the devil ! ” hotly replied De La Rue as he warded 
off the blow. ‘‘Monsieur Severance, I beg you 
control your wrath, it will be mostly to your interest 
to hear me out. I came to the back door without 
my card, 'pas d? dtiquette^ because I thought you 
did not know your own good.” Herbert Severance 
was waxing furious, yet the Frenchman kept on in 
his insinuating way. “And that you premedi- 
tated a refusal to my request. Monsieur Severance, 
believe me I could not go back to Ld lelU France 


GOD, MAN, AND DEVIL. 


829 


denied this interview. I could not go back without 
giving to you for la 'petite these souvenirs.” He 
stretched out his hand proffering the casket he had 
meanwhile unloosened, but Herbert Severance 
angrily knocked it to the floor. ‘‘Pardon, Mon- 
sieur, the souvenirs are her mother*sJ* 

At these words Herbert Severance started, intent 
upon picking up the casket, but De La Hue put his 
foot upon it, and sneeringly said, drawing from his 
belt a glittering dagger : 

“Not so fast. Monsieur, you are not exactly 
polite.” 

Herbert Severance thus thwarted, bit his lips 
and settled back upon his heels. The Frenchman 
tossed the dagger upon the wet trickling heap made 
by his cloak. 

“ Well, Monsieur Severance, I have to discharge 
a sacred behest, I pledged my honour — ” 
r' ** Your honour ! ” contemptuously hissed out 
Herbert Severance ; “ monstrous ! ” 

“Yes, Monsieur, m'y honour y retorted the 
Frenchman, whilst his face twitched in anger. 
“You must acknowledge every man has his own 
accepted code of honour — ” 

“ Silence ! ” yelled Herbert Severance, clenching 
the fists of his upraised arms, as if he would beat 
the man down, but restraining himself from an 
actual assault. “ Silence, coward ! thief ! ” 

“ Stay, Monsieur, cool your words, or I may think 
I am in the jungle, and will not be responsible for 
my actions in my own defence. Your abuse, Mon- 


330 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


sieur, has a heau contrepoint in your own tardy 
vindication of your honour,'' sneered De La Rue. 

Parlleu, Monsieur, you only made madam the 
prey of chance by your own negligence.” 

At these words, once more Herbert Severance 
lifted his hands to smite De La Rue, and stepped 
towards him. 

The devilish spirit animating the Frenchman, 
who remained outrageously self-possessed and calm, 
seemed to stay the impending blow. He never 
winced, but hissed between his teeth as he gesti- 
culated — 

T challenge you before tout le monde to defend 
yourself against my charge. Oui, Monsieur, you 
permitted your petite fille to remain my pupil — 
my pupil ! — all these long years. Mon, Dieu ! • 
Monsieur, just think of it ; you left her without 
making for yourself the trouble to ask a single 
question, — left her to the instruction and the evil 
influence of her mother’s lover ! To me ! to me ! 
Dare you deny this ? ” 

De La Rue stood as one on unexpugnable grounds, 
fearlessly, audaciously defiant, while Herbert 
Severance’s head bowed lower and lower. He 
clutched the back of a chair to steady himself ; the 
import of the taunting, cruel words dawned upon 
him. He cringed beneath the impious, villainous, 
odious words, yet they were, on the face, absolutely 
true. 

Voild ! Monsieur, I do not come here to flaunt 
in your teeth the drapeau rouge," resumed De La 


GOD, MAN, AND DEVIL. 


831 


Rue, in a tantalizing tone. The wind rushed in 
through the, broken glass, and lifted the curtain 
high in the air. Void! Monsieur, the elements 
are having a pitiless battle ; let us be more 
tranquil.” 

Very well ; let us end this wretched business 
as soon as possible,’’ subjoined Mr Severance, 
closing the inner wooden blinds to exclude the 
wind. 

Meantime, De La Rue picked up the casket, 
and crossing the room, placed it upon the 
desk. He quickly opened the lid, displaying a 
collection of jewels — rather sacrificial stones. See- 
ing these, Herbert Severance staggered to a chair, 
like one stunned and helpless to resist the ferocity 
of a savage brute, who was burying its venomous 
fangs deep in some vital part. 

De La Rue’s eyes caught sight of the paper- 
weight always on Severance’s desk, and drew 
back in surprise. It was the counterpart of one 
in the jewel-box. 

Plus extraordinaire ! ” muttered he, as he 
lifted the paperweight from the desk, momentarily 
lost to another person’s presence, and closely 
inspected the article. Om, ou% la mSme chose, 
par exemple^ la m^me devise 'Amor Omnia Vincit ’ 
la mime date'' He now took the fellow paper- 
weight from the casket, and placed it side by side 
with the other, in full view. His Latin inquisitive- 
ness now in full swing, he looked vaguely at 
Herbert Severance, spoke, but not to him : 


332 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


" Strange, very strange ! She assured me this 
paper-weight ” — he touched the one just taken out 
of the casket — was cast out of some silver coins 
received as her last fee, at her farewell appearance 
as a professional in opera.” 

His imagination was busy weaving his sackcloth. 
The coincidence dictated the idea that he had been 
deceived by the woman whom he had so cruelly 
duped and heartlessly outraged. It was diamond 
cut diamond. 

She, she, then, made a dupe of me !” He spoke 
the words intoned by the accusation of one suddenly 
finding himself betrayed. 

Herbert Severance looked up at these words. 
Seeing He La Rue holding the paper-weight, he 
became furious through indignation. His tongue 
was paralysed, and his lips refused for the moment 
to articulate, he fairly glared at He La Rue. 

“ How dare you touch that, you infamous 
scoundrel ! ” he managed to utter in a laboured 
way, and wrenched the paper-weight out of He 
La Rue’s hands. 

But the Frenchman was so self-absorbed in his 
own cogitations, he neither heeded the words, nor 
did he seem to notice the roughness employed 
to gain possession of the article. 

Just at this juncture the fire-bells clanged out 
boisterously. Jove’s flying fire-lances havoced 
some edifice. The fire-brigade rushed, yelling, 
pell-mell through the street past the house, the 
horses dashing wildly in answer to the warning 


GOD, MAN, AND DEVIL. 


333 


call. Both men looked at one another. For 
the moment their thoughts were diverted by the 
extraneous confusion and hub-bub from their solemn 
mood. 

This outside incident was the little vagrant grain 
that happed to allow of a breathing spell at the 
right moment, and to relax the stress which had 
resistlessly swayed them in a hazardous manner. 

Mr Severance stepped briskly to the window. 
As it faced on the garden, nothing could be seen. 
He turned quickly, evidently intent on passing 
through the hall to the breakfast-room, but, on 
second thought, halted at the door, wheeled around, 
and came back to his chair, saying to himself : 

“ What difference where the fire is, my house 
is safe.” 

Meanwhile De La Rue had employed the brief 
moments in laying out upon the desk the contents 
of the upper tray of the casket. 

“ Count De La Rue, let us understand one another 
at once,” coldly and dryly said Mr Severance. 

“ Tr^ bien, Monsieur, trh Men, that is my 
supreme desire,” interpolated De La Rue. 

Then let us proceed with your business. And 
that you may not complain of foul play, T tell you 
now, on my oath before God and man, I intend 
to hill you the next time we stand face to face, or, 
be killed by you'* 

The words were spoken with unfaltering delibera- 
tion, and not with passionate vigour; they were 
weighed and tempered to lend their full significance. 


334 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


as the proper vehicles of an uncompromising 
determination. 

The Frenchman, dissembling any astonishment, 
rose to his feet, bowed in the most affected manner. 

Mon Dieu, Monsieur, you are polite. I did 
not flatter myself you would be so considerate 
for me.’^ His lips curled in an irritating expression 
of supercilious contempt. “Life to me. Monsieur, 
is not worth one sou, but it is the nature of the 
Frenchman to defend himself a V outrance. Par 
exemple^ Monsieur, I am a Frenchman, and as an 
old swordsman of the gymnasium, I must be par- 
doned if I cannot forget my skill to oblige a friend 
who wishes to kill me without resistance, n^est ce 
pas ? ” 

“This is frivolous, sir,” impatiently said Mr 
Severance, “let us proceed seriously.” 

“ Oui, oui, Monsieur, it is leger, or, as you say, 
frivolous. Monsieur, I agree ; let us advance 
to our affairs.” These last words were uttered 
with somewhat sadness, and oyer his face flitted 
a softening thought of something, which transformed 
the speaker even to Herbert Severance’s eyes. 

“ I agree. Count De La Eue, for every hindrance 
prolonging this interview is apparently painful for 
us both.” 

“In the first place, to do me justice. Monsieur 
Severance, you must consider that I am a French- 
man, reared with certain ideas of love, of women, of 
life, in general of tout le monde. My temperament, 
social view, and entire existence is founded upon 


GOD, MAN, AND DEVIL. 


335 


national characteristics, and the accepted habitude of 
society in my own country. My estimate of woman’s 
responsibility, of her 'personnel, of her approach- 
ability or her impossible seclusion, are not excep- 
tionally mine, but veritably national, they are 
like every other Frenchman’s. Par exemple, a 
Tvoman once married is no longer innocent in 
the eyes of the world respecting the temptations 
and vices existent. She is after marriage com- 
measurably a free agent. She is no longer girl, 
but woman, . . . Then, also, you must know. 
Monsieur, that most all artistes are supposed by 
Frenchmen to have a certain laxity, freedom, or 
w^hat you will, in regard to the stricter pro- 
prieties which obtain in what is appelled by 
the English the straight-laced upper ten. Au 
contraire, in the monde Boheme among painters 
and literati and artistes there exists a code of 
their own. They are a law unto themselves. 
They follow alike according to their own taste, 
or make a detour in conformity with their chances 
or circumstances. Amongst the artistic guilds, 
as all are credited with more than ordinary in- 
telligence, all are supposed to view life on a broad 
plane ; all, so to speak, assume the attitude of 
experts, or adepts as you might call them. . . . 
Each respects the other’s affairs. Scarcely ever 
is there a violation on this score. This is not une 
fagon de parler. This is French. This is the debon- 
naire manner of the veritable artistic Bohemian. . . 
Pardon this seeming digression, but, Monsieur, 


336 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


I am forced to state this to you in defence of 
my own course. ... I thought, and justifiably, 
too, with reason from my 'point de vue, that 
Mademoiselle Arditte was like other artistes. 
I had every reason to believe she was your 
mistress ! . . .” 

Stop ! infamous wretch ! ” yelled Herbert 
Severance, as he sprang up and seized De La 
Rue by the throat, ‘‘ or, by heaven, I'll strangle 
you ! ” 

De La Rue disengaged himself from his adver- 
sary with considerable difficulty. 

'^Pardon, Monsieur, there seems to be a little 
misunderstanding. I thought,” he touched his 
forehead with his finger in a quizzical way, “ I 
thought that you agreed to my proposition to hear 
my story ? Pardon, pardon. Monsieur, I assure 
you I am very content in silence. My own 
knowledge suffices me. You are at liberty to 
remain in obscurity, n*importeP^ He essayed to 
take his leave, saying, as he stooped down to 
gather up his cloak and dagger, “Monsieur, the 
contents of that casket were gifts and souvenirs 
entrusted to me by Mada'm. The letters are 
mine.” Tossing his still dripping cloak across his 
arm, he stepped back to the desk, pressed on a 
spring in the casket, and one side of it dropped 
down revealing a packet of letters which he took 
out and thrust into the flame of the taper yet 
burning on the table, “ and they can be well spared 
from your family archives. Monsieur.” 


GOD, MAN, AND DEVIL. 


387 


Herbert Severance was dumbfounded. He 
frantically tried to snatch the burning papers, but 
to no avail ; De La Rue held them far above his 
head, exclaiming with sardonic exultation when they 
were beyond redemption : 

Monsieur, too late. But I have pulled the 
jewel de la boue ! With one exception, there are 
none of her letters written to me extant, and that 
one will go with me to the grave.” The papers 
were all reduced to ashes. Turning to Herbert 
Severance with mock gallantry, “ Monsieur, I salute 
you, bonne nuitP^ he proceeded to lift the curtain. 

Don’t go ! for God’s sake, don’t go ! gasped out 
Herbert Severance. 

“ Parbleu ! Monsieur, I decline, with your per- 
mission, taking the chance of your amusing yourself 
by garrotting me. It is not polite. Monsieur ; 
especially after you have promised so soon to kill 
me, I must decline.” 

** Count De La Rue, on my word as a gentleman, 
I assure you, if you will briefly summarize the story, 
I will listen passively. You are a man, you have 
loved, surely you must know what a struggle my 
soul is engaged in ? ” He outstretched his hands 
towards De La Rue in his pleading. 

Monsieur Severance, on second thought I will 
comply, provided you will make no further scenes.” 
He once more threw his cloak upon the floor close 
by the window, but thrust his dagger into his 
belt. 

Both men sat down. Herbert Severance clasped 

Y 


338 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


his hands resolutely, and firmly set his teeth, as if 
putting himself in mental chancery. 

Monsieur, your assertion of marriage to Mile. 
Arditte was always to my mind a specious guise 
to genteelly mask a relation that was not d la mode, 
or permissible in America, as on the continent. 
Mile. Arditte’s career and success, as well as her 
beauty, made her, as you well knew at the time, 
the recipient of much, very much admiration and 
flattery. With veritable feminine spirit and 
natural inclination she liked it, pas sa faute, . . . 
You secluded her before she was satiated with the 
world, before the footlights had dimmed in her 
eyes. . . . Monsieur, pardon a criticism, but you 
were a laique, and indifferent to the requirements 
in her artistic nature ; her thirst, her hunger, her 
longing for artificial things, for the light, bright, 
dazzling show, eclat, and witchery of her theatric 
life. It was your misfortune. Monsieur, as well per- 
haps as hers. Poor inexperienced child-woman, she 
did not know herself. Voild ! I did know her. I 
profited by my insight to win her from you.” 

Herbert Severance involuntarily threw his hands 
out. 

Pardon, Monsieur, you must be tranquil. Her 
subtle charms so fresh, fragrant of the printemps, 
were, I confess, the fact irresistible, trh ravissant. 
Soon I discovered that she was not earth-earthy, 
but a spirituelle, lovely refined woman above the 
level of her class. — Pardon, Monsieur, but to a 
Frenchman all women are of a class. — Day by day I 


GOD, MAN, AND DEVIL. 


339 


found that I, a worldly blaz^ man, was becoming 
veritably entoiled by this pure, guileless cbild- 
woman. I was maddened against fate — jealous of 
you — you, Monsieur, whom I regarded as incon- 
siderate and unworthy of this charming mignonne, 
because of your blindness. . . 

‘‘You are not called upon, sir, to criticise my 
actions,” savagely interrupted Herbert Severance. 

“But, Monsieur, the story bangs upon these 
little impressions. After the birth of la 'petite, I 
thought I would call to my succour all my reserve 
manliness, all my sense of honour, insomuch as you 
had entrusted me with this sacred devoir — noUesse 
oblige. Monsieur, I concluded to leave at once. 
Mon Dieu ! now the trial came. Madam had become 
attached to me ; for you know. Monsieur, I nomin- 
ally had substituted you, in your absence, by my 
kind ministrations during her illness, and she now 
made claim upon me. Mon Dieu ! Monsieur, 
believe me or not, I tried with all my force to be 
honest to you ; but the struggle was with her, as 
well as with my own heart. The constant com- 
panionship, which was hut natural whilst living by 
the side of this lovely woman, rendered me power- 
less to resist, when she protested that she could 
not live without me. . . . In a lit of despondency, 
occasioned by my positive avowal that I should at 
once relinquish the devoir, and betake myself to 
some foreign country, twice she vowed to kill 
herself. . . . My courage failed. . . . I called for 
advice upon a capable abhd. I talked the case 


340 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


over in complete confidence, without the slightest 
disguisement in any particular. He frankly ad- 
vised me to fully and freely communicate the 
state of affairs to you without delay. . . . Un- 
fortunately, I was not sufficiently without blame. 
I could not evade the one fact, that I had endea- 
voured in the past to win madam from her 
allegiance to you, because. Monsieur, I thought 
you were a hypocrite. . . . Lack of courage hin- 
dered. Possibly — I confess to the sin — the egotistic 
thought that I had the finesse to adjust all my own 
shortcomings, and compromise the situation, so as 
to avoid criminating either her or myself, and 
yet not be forced to resort to extreme measures, 
which would eventuate in a rupture. . . . 

“By degrees she traversed singular conditions of 
remorse and recrimination. ... I occupied her 
with occultisms and mysticisms, for which, Monsieur, 
you had such a penchant.” 

Herbert Severance winced, but made no protest ; 
he was lapsing into an apparent state of immobility. 
De La Kue took an outrageous delight now and 
again in thus stabbing him. The only words he 
pronounced were “ Go on, sir.” 

Mercij Monsieur, merci, I will ^go on.* The 
savant cults permitted me great scope to mislead 
her. I made her believe that she was peculiarly 
endowed, and that she could with application attain 
great eminence as a mystic. . . . Meanwhile, I 
experienced an aggrievance against you. A rebel- 
lious, bitter hatred moved me to avenge myself 


GOD, MAN, AND DEVIL. 


341 


upon you. I could not credit that you were only 
as a passive instrument in the hands of fate. 
Your continued absences prompted me to believe, 
and to instil the idea into madam’s mind, that your 
affections were, without a doubt, centred elsewhere; 
that you lacked in manliness, preferring to lead a 
life of duplicity, rather than free her from an 
empty claim upon you as her husband, and give 
her her freedom, and thus afford me the coveted 
opportunity to possess her in the eyes of the law ; 
for I avow I would have made her my wife. Ma 
foi ! I believed this to be exactly true. As a 
Frenchman, I could not possibly assign any other 
motive for your most extraordinary conduct in 
consenting to indulge in such lengthy absences. 
It seemed you must be indifferent to madam’s happi- 
ness and her deportment, — either that, or you were 
mad to tamper thus with your own peace and happi- 
ness. Monsieur, it was sheer folly to defy a woman’s 
love with such cruel tests of constancy. Did it ever 
occur to you that she was human, young, suscep- 
tible, amenable to tenderness, and likely to yield to 
the constant devotion of any person ? ” 

No answer came, for Herbert Severance had 
settled deeper and deeper into profound abstraction, 
and was heedless of all interrogations. 

Monsieur, in justice to me,” De La Kue con- 
tinued, in justice to the dead,” — involuntarily he 
crossed his breast, — allow me to assure you, that 
she only forgot her vows to you, after I played upon 
her credulity in the mysterious promulgation of 


342 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


unknown cults. I thought to eventually win her 
tout d fait by subterfuges. But no, to my morti- 
fication I confess it, that from the moment she 
realised the duplicity with which she had been 
betrayed, her complete nature was transformed.” 

A shadowy smile spread over Herbert Severance’s 
face at these words. 

“ Thank God ! ” he exclaimed. 

“ Voila ! instead of the gentle, capricious, mobile 
woman, wa contraire now, she never ceased berat- 
ing me and accusing herself. She gave utterance 
to such passionate wails of remorse, I thought 
betimes her reason would become dethroned. Mon 
Dieu ! Monsieur, it U'as terrible ! And I, pauvre 
diahle, could but bow submissively. Let me ex- 
plain, that the false report of the death of la petite 
I was excessively averse should be sent to you, but 
Madam would not listen to any other than this 
bizarre course. She charged me on my most solemn 
oath to secrecy. . . . Finally, consumed by the 
humiliating knowledge that all was hopelessly lost 
for me in regard to her, le bon Dieu me par- 
donP '’ — he crossed himself again, — “ I sought, as a 
Frenchman, to amuse myself — ” 

“ For God's sake, man, don't tempt me ! " burst 
out Herbert Severance. His face was livid ; he 
had listened as one petrified until De La Hue used 
the unfortunate word “ amuse." 

He La Hue realised he had strained a dangerous 
point, but he was intent upon telling his story at 
all hazard. 


GOD, MAN, AND DEVIL. 


343 


“ Very well, Monsieur. I tried to appease my 
wounded pride, my repulsed overtures, my baffled 
hope, by exercising my influence over her, despite 
her unsilenced avowals of hatred and increasing 
contempt.” 

These words soothed Herbert Severance, as, 
indeed, did every intimation of his wife’s purity 
of nature. He did not try to repress his feelings. 

‘‘ Merciful God, be praised ! ” he exclaimed with 
true thankfulness. 

Monsieur, the devil incarnate prompted me 
to the heartless sang-froid of an inquisitor. 1 
tormented her ! Execrable fate ! By spells I 
could have eaten out my heart, I so compas- 
sionated her agonised soul, her estrangement, her 
loneliness. Her acute imagination ever magnified 
her faults, une mille fois. . . . Finally, she forbade 
me her presence. Hothing could waive her decision. 
I wa^ desolate. . . . She sickened — no mortal 
malady, other than hopeless remorse — and died,” — 
he crossed himself, — “ as you know, cursing me ! ” 

He was much affected, and Herbert Severance 
impulsively stretched his hand out towards him. 

“ My hand, Count De La Kue. You have made 
me ineffably happy. I thank you, I sincerely 
thank you ! ” 

With his habitual irony Count de la Kue closed 
his hand, extending only his little finger, and 
touched the great-hearted man’s generous palm. 

“ Monsieur is emotional,” he vouchsafed with 
mockery. ** Well, to proceed, after our duel I vowed 


344 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


eternal fidelity to la petite Clarisse. Pour quoi ? 
To protect her from evil. To protect her from men 
of my own sort. I effectually intrigued with the Lad y 
Superior of the convent where she was guarded. 
In fine, I became la petite*s tutor for languages 
and music, from the tenderest age when she began 
to babble, until — ah, misery — she left to voyage 
to you. But even then I did not lose sight of her. 

. . . Monsieur ! Monsieur ! you can never love her 
as devotedly and with the abnegation that I have. 
And yet you have miserably alienated her from me. 
I know it well. It is not just. . . His voice 
had grown tremulous. That casket was entrusted 
to me during de jours heureux by madam, as a dot 
for la petite. I know she is soon to marry. . , . 
Monsieur Severance, I have never believed that you 
were legally wedded to Clarisse Arditte. Once, 
when exasperated by the information that la petite 
was to go to you, I asked a confrere of your 
nephew’s, whether you were married, or had ever 
been. He took measures to ascertain, and after 
careful research, discovered no evidence in the affir- 
mative, and stoutly repudiated the idea. . . . 
Monsieur, the old hate lurked in my heart. I 
thought I could not give up to any person living, 
but much less to you,'* he hissed these words out, 
his eyes dancing in his excitement, the adored la 
petite, who was so considerable to me ; she over 
whom I had watched vigilantly, even jealously, for 
eighteen years. No, no, not to you, who had been 
negligent, indifferent, and remiss in manifesting 


GOD, MAN, AND DEVIL. 


845 


common interest, even for her physical welfare ! 
In revenge, to secure for me an ally, I told Monsieur 
Jasper Rodgers that your illegitimate daughter . . 

Without a single word Herbert Severance seized 
his silver paper weight and struck the speaker a 
murderous blow on the temple ! 

De La Rue endeavoured to rise to his feet, fell for- 
ward lifeless on the floor, whilst Herbert Severance 
was in the act of wielding another blow, 

A deafening clap of thunder burst, a vivid flash 
of lightning ! the house was struck ! 

Herbert Severance was struck dead ! Both 
sinners, one noble, the other ignoble, lay stark and 
dead, with their hearts’ secrets locked beyond the 
prying of mortal sight, beyond malignant divulg- 
ment; both men summoned to enter forthwith 
the realm of God, and receive their just sentence 
before the highest tribunal 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


BEREAVEMENT. 


“ Alas ! both for the deed and the cause ! 

But have I not seen Death ? Is this the way 
I must turn to native dust ? 0 ! sight 
Of terror foul and ugly to behold. 

Horrid to think, how horrid to feel ! ” 



PPALLED through fright the servants were 


-lA-. unable to stir from their rooms after the 
fatal bolt. . . . Neighbours, in dangerous 
proximity to the doomed house, raised a terror- 
stricken uproar. The din and commotion of rapidly 
arriving fire-brigades and insurance patrolmen filled 
the air with dire coufusion. 

Fortunately the lightning-struck dwelliug was 
not fired. Sulphurous odours poured through the 
broken doors and shattered windows, caused by the 
electric discharge; and darkness reigned to awe 
the beholders. 

Is anybody hurt ? ” was cried out on all sides. 
A group of men carrying lanterns proceeded to 
make instant search over the premises. Servants 
gradually made their appearance, protesting, to all 
questions, that they had heard nothing until the 
crash came, and were then dazed out of their wits. 


BEREAVEMENT. 


347 


" Who is in the house beside you servants ? 
demanded the captain of the insurance patrol. 

“ God be blessed ! ” gasped out Jones, me 
mastur wuz a-writtin in the library when he 
ordered me to bed ! ” 

A rush was made to research the library, for the 
men upon first entering the house had only glanced 
hastily into the downstair rooms, and, discovering 
no evidences of occupancy or of fire, they had forth- 
with ascended to the chambers, consistently suppos- 
ing at this hour the occupants would be in bed, 
and might ^require assistance. 

Here lay the two implacable foes dead ! seared 
by the terrific shaft which had shaken the granite 
edifice from foundation to roof. 

What did it mean ? 

“ Some mysterious judgment,” thought the dread- 
embraced servants, who, true to their superstition, 
crossed themselves as they involuntarily mumbled a 
prayer for the souls of the dead. It was the will 
of God to their beclouded reasoning. 

The presence of the stranger dead alongside 
their master caused them great perplexity. Not 
one of their number knew this man, and there 
prevailed complete ignorance on their part as to 
how or when he had eflfected his entrance. 

The wet cloak on the floor by the unbolted 
window, and the muddy foot-tracks, indicated his 
entrance from the garden side. The charred 
papers, the jewels scattered in disorder, the dagger 


348 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


in his belt, suggested that he was a thief who had 
surprised the master of the house. 

Where is the rest of the family ? asked the 
captain. 

“ The young ladies and Master Dick, sur, are 
away attending a weddin* at New Rochelle.” 
prompt^ replied Jones. 

They must be telegraphed for at once,” said 
a sergeant of police who had been summoned. 
“ Nothing must be touched, however, until the 
coroner comes, as the men are both dead.” 

Proper and trusty men were detailed to patrol 
the house, and guard against sneak thieves, who 
find scenes of disaster their most profitable resorts. 
Notifications were despatched to the chief of police 
and to the coroner, and the street was formally 
barriered. 

Gradually the storm spent its fury, dying down, 
only now and again a low, far away muttering of 
thunder was distinguishable. Daylight began to 
break, and in its paleness imparted a grim, 
unearthly aspect to the immediate surroundings 
of the disaster. 

Four flurried, alert, smooth-faced news-blazefs, 
with keen noses for news, appeared, pad and 
pencil in hand, eager for the first items of the 
shocking calamity. It was a race between the 
representatives of The World, The Sun, The 
Times, and The Herald, to interview, if possible, 
the victims, dead or alive. The lateness of the 
occurrence, in fact, after the morning papers had 


BEREAVEMENT. 


349 


left the press, would necessitate an extra^ therefore 
they agreed between themselves to pool the facts, 
each recounting for his own journal the sum and 
substance according to his own light. 

They fairly itched to furnish copy to warrant 
blood and thunder, sensational head-lines, in caps. 

A Suspected Tragedy in High Life ! ” Omin- 
ous ABSENCE OF MEMBERS OF THE FAMILY !” CIR- 
CUMSTANTIAL Evidence most Condemnatory ! ” 
“ Suspicion provoked by the Stubborn As- 
sumption OF Ignorance on the part of the 
Servants ! ” 

Deuce take it ! ” disappointedly exclaimed 
sensational reporter fiend No. 1, “ how in the 
Dickens are we to dodge the lightning ? ” 

Bother exactitude ! We’re not historians,” 
said No. 2. 

Follow in evening’s issue the apocryphal, giving 
details of later and fuller investigations,” offered, 
suggestively. No. 3, who was an old war correspon- 
dent 

** That’s the tidy ticket, old man ; your head’s 
level,” exclaimed No. 4, snapping his fingers with 
delight. 

- EX-TRA-A ! EX-TRA-A-A ! TRAGEDY 
IN HIGH LIFE ! DOUBLE MURDER ! UN- 
PARALLELED IN ANNALS OF CRIME ! 
MYSTERIOUS ABSENCE OF FAMILY! EX- 
TRA-A ! EX-TRA-A 1” bellowed loud and hurriedly 
the paper-boys, the words jolting out, as running 
hither and thither, they scoured the entire town, to 


350 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


announce the inkling of a distorted disaster, and 
vend the cruel sensational fabrication. 

New York was agog over the breakfast news. 
A rush was made for the extras, sold at a premium. 
Windows were thrown wide with a bang, and men 
in shirt-sleeves, sometimes faces belathered, yelled 
on high : Boy ! boy ! hist ! here 1 Paper ! ” 

Ladies stood bare-headed on their door-steps, 
beckoning for the newsmongers. 

What avidity show mortals, one and all, for 
knowledge of their neighbour’s crime or misfortunes ! 

Opinions of all sorts were rife. Individuals 
who had long closeted social miffs against this 
particular family, now unsparingly aired their 
anathemas. . . . Ventilated petty spite in slurring 
remarks. . . . Human tongues were busy, but 
not with pity. 

One little upstart, — Fanfaron that he was — an- 
nounced his opinion with a flourish : 

“ Bad lot J Old adage verified — ' birds of a 
feather, &c., &c.’ Egad ! ’tis perfectly sickening. 
Why, only last week, Jasper Rodgers — one of the 
same clique — broke his precious neck by falling 
over the hotel railing when blind drunk. I tell 
you they’re a bad lot ! ” 

A good old gentleman tried to check this 
loud-mouthed youth, by trenchantly asking, ^"Young 
man, how do you account for the lightning ? ” 

“ Great Csesar ! that’s deliciously funny,” he 
scoffingly retorted. "'Nobody but a chuckle-headed 
muff would be idiotic enough to credit the canard 


BEREAVEMENT. 


851 


tliat lightning played any part in that murder ! 
I tell you, my venerable friend, they’re posers ! A 
theatric lot, root and branch, with their fiddle- 
faddle. Not one of them ever known to do the 
slightest thing, without studying effect. You see, 
they couldn’t arrange a calcium light, so the light- 
ning was utilized.” Then, assuming a patronizing 
tone : ‘‘ You amaze me, Mr Sage, I thought you, of 
all men, were head and shoulders above such weak- 
kneed pandering to any one ; especially above 
trying to cover up the iniquities of any man, 
by prating the will of God.” 

This cub settled back with a self-satisfied air 
after his tirade, puffed up with the vain-glorious 
notion that his smartness had put a quietus on 
that old duffer. Sage;” whereas, the high-bred, 
old-schooled gentleman deplored the youth’s senseless, 
outrageous impertinence, and maintained silence, 
disgusted beyond words. 

Hearing the news, Mr and Mrs Bleecker proceeded 
in amazement, without delay to Mr Severance’s 
house. Under the stricture of the law, they, 
as others, were denied entrance, until the proper 
authorities should have taken thorough cognizance 
of the situation. As they loitered in the neighbour- 
hood, in expectation of the arrival of Clarisse, Edith, 
and Dick, they were driven nigh to distraction by 
the surly, sinister, insinuating on dits, which flew 
like arrows from the common herd that flocked like 
sheep, to curiously view, with morbid interest, the 
site of the calamity. 


g52 HERBERT SEVERANCE. 

Mrs Bleecker could not refrain from expressions 
of scorching indignity concerning the bare-faced 
calumnies. She was most solicitous for Clarisse, 
and could not reconcile herself to the thought that 
without proper warning she would be brought face 
to face with the tragic event in all its awfulness. 

It will be such a terrific shock, and a frightful 
strain upon the dear child’s highly sensitive organis- 
ation. I declare I fear hazardous results. In 
any event, Algernon, we must insist that both the 
girls come home with us until this uproar calms 
down,” said she to Mr Bleecker. 

“ Certainly, Rachel, it’s the only thing for them 
to do,” approvingly subjoined Mr Bleecker. I 
hope Dick and Clarisse will not be dragged into 
court, in the adjustment of this mysterious business. 
Doubtless Mr Severance was too clear-headed a 
lawyer not to keep his affairs as straight as a string. 
You see, Rachel, the awkward thing is this inex- 
plicable presence of the other man— both dead — no 
known witness. My conscience, it is a puzzler ! ” 

Just then a carriage swung around the corner in 
view, the horses, driven at full speed, were reined 
up with great difficulty, long enough for the cordon 
to be lowered to permit it to draw up before 
Mr Severance’s dwelling. 

Mr Bleecker called out to Dick as he alighted, 
caught him by the arm, expostulating in an under- 
tone : 

** Drysdale, don’t for heaven’s sake permit 
Clarisse to enter before you have made at least a 


BEREAVEMENT. 


363 


cursory inspection. It is too horrible ! don’t, pray 
don’t.” 

Clarisse, followed by Edith, jumped out of the 
carriage and confronted Mr Bleecker with pallid 
countenance, and in a cold, firm voice accosted him : 

Mr Bleecker, it is my duty to go to my father 
if he is in trouble. Nothing can hinder me.” 
Seeing at a glance by the strangeness of everybody, 
and everything, that something she could not fathom 
had occurred, she stiffly drew herself up to her full 
height, and with determination which would suffer 
no brooking, added in a solemn clear tone : 

If his life is in danger, more than for any 
other reason, then should I, his daughter, be 
promptly at his side.” With tears in her eyes, she 
grasped Dick’s arm, and amid the cruel prying of 
all that throng they quickly passed within the 
dwelling. 

Jones stood with down-bowed head, awaiting 
their entrance. He plucked Dick’s coat-skirt and 
cautiously whispered : 

Mistur Dick, for the luv of the blessed Virgin, 
don’t tak the young missus into the library. Mastur’s 
dead, sur ! ” This announcement gave Dick a 
start ; he turned to Edith, who was close upon his 
heels, and said with decision : 

“ You and Clarisse, go to Mr Severance’s room 
and wait for me.” 

Clarisse instinctively felt that this was a subter- 
fuge to hide some vague mystery, and rebelliously 
broke out : 

z 


354 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


“ Dick, for mercy sake, don’t keep me in 
suspense ! What are all these strange people here 
for ? Where is my father ? Tell me ! tell me ! ” 

Evasion was of no use. She had broken away 
from Dick and Edith, and darted straight to the 
library door. Fortunately it did not slide back 
freely, and the momentary delay afforded Dick 
ample time to reach her side. With gentle, but 
incontrovertible firmness, he drew her aside. 

“ Clarisse, wait until I have first seen the condi- 
tion of things.” Still she resisted. “ I promise 
not to withhold from you the very worst, only you 
must be reasonable, and wait a moment.” 

“ No, no ! Dick, I cannot. It will kill me. It 
is I who must first see, and know the worst at once. 
Let me pass, or 'come with me, for nothing can 
deter me ! ” She was transfigured into a fearless 
determined woman, whom no one could have 
mustered the necessary brutal courage to desist. 

The door slid back, the portiere drooped before 
her, she cast it impetuously aside, and stepped 
deliberately into the room, escorted by Dick. She 
walked straight over to the two long forms prone 
upon the floor, covered with two white coverlids. 

“ Who is the other ? ” she drily asked the officer 
on guard, her eyes roving all the time ovQr the 
disordered room, insensibly taking note of every 
detail. The man failed to respond. In marked 
astonishment she repeated, “ Who is the other ? ” 
Her peremptory tone evoked a prompt reply: 

''For the present unknown, Miss.” 


BEREAVEMENT. 


355 


** If that be the case, I will see.” She drew 
aside simultaneously both coverlids, revealing the 
discoloured visages. 

Not a moan, not one word escaped her. As if 
her hands had frozen to the linen she clutched, and 
she had become paralysed through terror, she re- 
mained as motionless as the corpses, and as immobile 
as marble. An instantaneous resolution had en- 
thralled her soul. Whatever struggle she main- 
tained within, there was not a vestige of emotional 
betrayal to those who eyed her with breathless 
apprehension. 

Finally she rose, saying, without a tremor in her 
voice, “ How merciless God has been to me and 
mine.” Then, as if some new consciousness had 
lifted the veil for a moment from the mystery ; 
“Perhaps it is well.” With deprecation she im- 
patiently turned to those present. “What are 
you waiting for ? Why is not my father properly 
disposed upon his bed, and the room set to 
rights ? ” 

The coroner’s deputy spoke up : 

“Nothing must be disturbed, Miss, before the 
coroner has taken his evidence.” 

“ What ! ” she exclaimed in dismay. “ When 
a man in his own house is struck by lightning and 
killed, can he not be decently lifted from the wrack 
and rubbish ? Is death a crime ? ” 

The man significantly uttered, “ That’s about it. 
Miss.” 

Dick and Edith had withdrawn to a remote part 


356 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


of the room, and in low tones were engaged in 
conversation. Edith had imparted to Dick the 
fact that the strange man lying dead beside 
his uncle was Count De La Eue. Dick’s face 
worked in a violent emotion. It was the hinting 
at an unpleasant revelation that stirred him to the 
heart’s core. Edith was also perceptibly agitated. 
To her recollection came unbidden glints of the 
conversation she had but held a few days previous 
with Mr Severance. 

Shuffling of heavy feet, and a murmur of voices 
in the hall, betokened the arrival of the coroner, 
his secretary, the doctor, and other requisite officers 
of the law necessary to institute an inquest. 

Dick induced Clarisse to leave the room, accom- 
panied by Edith. It would be a very hard ordeal 
if it had been proper for her to witness the unfeel- 
ing, matter-of-fact investigation during the autopsy. 
And more terrible, certainly, than all the rest, 
would it have been for her to hear the corrobora- 
tive or opposing evidences, deduced from circum- 
stances in lieu of the testimony of witnesses. 

Primd facie, without doubt, the house had been 
struck by lightning, the charred tracks made by 
the serpentine passage of the fiery electric fluid 
were traceable from its entrance to its exit. Satis- 
factory so far. Very well. The bodies were facing 
each other and impurpled on opposite sides, evi- 
dencing that the two men had been seated opposite 
one another in front of the desk, and must have 


BEREAVEMENT. 


867 


been simultaneously killed by the same flash. . . . 
A photograph of the room was taken for future 
reference. Afterwards, the bodies were laid upon 
the two long planks the deputy had placed upon 
the undertaker’s rests for the autopsy. 

Meanwhile, the legal ferret set to work on the 
correlative evidences, making a full detailed inven- 
tory. ... A half-melted Nuremburg silver casket, 
containing a conglomeration of partially -fused 
jewellery, showed the fatal conductor of the light- 
ning. In Mr Severance’s stiffened hand was 
clasped a metal paper weight that was blackened 
by the electric fluid. The bodies of the two men 
had fallen in such wise that when found Mr 
Severance had tumbled upon the stranger, and 
the paper weight had caused an ugly abrasion 
of his temple. The coroner, upon the doctor’s 
sworn opinion, was perfectly satisfied as to the 
accidental cause of death in both cases, and the 
same was duly certified. 

The query as to what business the men had 
been engaged in transacting, or what brought them 
so secretly together at that hour of the night, was 
a matter for another branch of the law, and in 
no way concerned him. 

The papers found in the paletot of the stranger 
indicated, if not actually proved, him to be a Count 
De La Kue. After a brief consultation with the 
family, who repudiated any claim for their con- 
sideration, it was decided that the stranger’s body 
should be removed, as soon as consistent with the 


358 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


requirements of the law, to the public mortuary, 
to await further action on the part of his own 
relatives or authorised persons. 

Mr Severance s body received immediate care. 

At the suggestion of Mr Bleecker a thorough 
search was instituted to see if there might be any 
personal private papers about the room that had 
escaped observation. This delicate office was en- 
trusted to Edith. She found the note written to 
Count De La Eue by Mr Severance, making an 
engagement for this very night. 

“ How strange,” she thought, both men dead ; 
were they now likely to hold the rendezvous ? ” 
And she recalled the belief promulgated by many 
that spirits of human beings lurk where they may 
chance to have embarked for '' that bourne whence 
no traveller returns,” at least for the space of four 
and twenty hours. 

“I cannot but feel there is a mystery here,” 
she said to herself, as she pocketed the document, 
resolved not to produce it unless it went for some- 
thing vital in exoneration of the dead. 

The charred fragments in the paper-basket 
attracted the attention of Jones, who was so used 
to his master’s methodical ways. His thoughts 
immediately turned to ponder on this deviation of 
custom. He wondered, ‘‘ What, under the sun, 
ever made the mastur du sich a disorderly trick,” 
then, as if such speculation was out of his province. 
Well, faith and it’s no the loiks o' me that should 
be a-criticosizing the loiks o’ he. If the mastur 


BEEEAVEMENT. 


859 


done it, I’ll bet me Sunday boots on’t ’tis the 
lightest and the properest thing for any gentulman 
in the land to do.” This summing up of faithful 
Jones was a tribute to his late master, creditable 
alike to master and servant. 

Hours of unspeakable grief attended the primary 
state of stolidity which had braced Clarisse up so 
bravely. Dick nobly tried to comfort her, withal 
he likewise was profoundly grieved by the personal 
loss he experienced. His uncle was his sole 
relative, excepting Clarisse. They were parti- 
cularly knit together by the oneness and unity 
of their affliction, endeared by the pitiless desola- 
tion of their supreme sorrow. 

Clarisse, clinging to Dick, said, with heart- 
breaking pathos, “ Dick, how suddenly our world 
has narrowed down to our two selves. Our claim 
on each other is a thousandfold more to-day than 
yesterday.” 

Dick’s ensaddened face glowed with delight at 
her words. 

“Such utterance, Clarisse, from you during 
this dire hour, is priceless to me. Believe me, 
my darling, it turns the poignant edge of sorrow 
to a great degree. Yes, beloved one, we will 
henceforth consecrate our love and our lives to 
each other.” 

Earnest, passionate Dick entertained an unspoken 
thought, namely — if the spirit of the beloved dead 
yet hovered about them, this avowal, genuine as it 
was, must be salutary to him and merit his sanction. 


360 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


Yus, the supposed power of a spirit to read mortals* 
hearts must likewise accord his uncle the felicity 
of clearly interpreting all which was burning in his 
heart of hearts at this moment. Aye, he must 
likewise have known the supreme trial it was for 
Dick to have kept violent hands off the body of 
their arch-foe. De La Kue’s corpse was clothed with 
none of death’s sanctity, but seemed to Dick as 
the carcass of some abominable, dehumanized 
monster, which should have been cast as carrion 
into a sewer, to rot with other mizen. 

Strange, wondrous strange, that out of all the 
world, these two men were struck by death at 
the same time. What hideous juggling of fate. . . . 
Dick was not superstitious, but the extraordinary 
coincidence tended to excite an uncanny line of 
speculation. . . . He was deeply concerned lest 
his uncle had not taken the precaution to destroy, 
or place beyond the haphazard of falling into 
Qarisse’s hands, his wife’s confession. 

Time dragged slowly, as if weighted down by 
chain and ball. He was anxious, for Clarisse’s sake, 
to end as quickly as forms and ceremonies per- 
mitted, the dismal wretchedness of holding vigils 
beside the inanimate form, which had so recently 
been athrill with life, which had enshrined a soul 
of lofty mould, which had been possessed of that 
essence of intelligence, that imparted individuality 
and character, which had been imbued with affec- 
tion, abnegation, nobility, and which had typified 
an exalted order of manhood, now — now, but a 
lifeless, insensitive object, from which had flown, 


BEREAVEMENT. 


361 


without warning, without an adieu, the beloved 
spirit. Lips silenced for ever and ever. 

Cold, bitter, inexorable, implacable Death 1 
Iconoclast ! Destiny ! thou hast no favourite whom 
thou sparest j thou boldest back not one solitary 
pang, when a dearly beloved falls into thy merciless 
clutches. To one and all thou art cruel impar- 
tially ; to one and all thy visitations are unwelcome. 
Let mortals expect and watch thy coming, years or 
hours, thy arrival is ever a dread surprise. Every 
hand is lifted to stay thy progress. Though in fits 
of human suffering, the immunity thou canst dis- 
pense hast been frequently supplicated, the cry is 
ever and anon, at thy approach, ‘‘Avaunt, Death!, 
not yet I not yet I ” Thy secrecy, thy impene- 
trableness maketh mortal heart quail. Thou 
seemest to hold the key to eternity,; but the 
unconscious moment exacted in dissolution, to 
unloose the earthy trammels of the soul, is veiled 
in an awful mystery. What mortal, in honesty, 
when the brain is lucid, can say, “ I dread thee 
not at all ” ? 

Clarisse had never previously seen death. To 
her the horror of the inevitable hopelessness and 
helplessness with which she was compelled to submit 
to her loss, crushed her. She found herself in a scared, 
timid way, shrinking from the lifeless form. It 
was so cold ! It was so dumb ! An undefinable 
recoiling tempted her to flee from the body of one 
who had but yesterday embodied all she held most 


362 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


dear, most loveable on earth. . . . Then came the 
fierce irrational resentment against the Supreme 
Power, the internal upbraidings, the unwarrantable 
questioning why her father, who had been the 
pattern of excellence, the type of nobility, should be 
thus stricken down, whilst scores of less worthy in- 
dividuals were permitted enjoyment of life and 
well-being ? Her “ why this ” and why that ” 
fell back unanswered upon her distraught soul. 

“Dick,” she said with a sense of shame, much 
confused and distressed, “I am such a coward, I 
shrink with actual fear from being left alone in the 
room with that — that ” — She pointed towards the 
casket containing her father’s body, giving way to 
an access of spasmodic weeping. 

“ Yes, I understand, Clarisse. The shock of this 
violent calamity, your unfamiliarity with death 
in any guise, affects you most unhappily. It is 
quite natural, my darling, but you must not grow 
morbid. You remember your father’s frequent 
quotation, ‘ There's nothing good or had, hut think- 
ing orb it makes it soJ Well, soon we must make 
a change of scene, and in our new life, as time jogs 
on, learn to accept our loss, and feel that nothing is 
such an affliction it cannot be assuaged by time 
and fresh happiness. ” Dick’s philosophy was given 
with ill-grace, for his own heart was in revolt. 

“ A while ago, Dick,” she said between gasping 
sobs, “I was arranging a trifling detail of father’s 
toilet, just as I always have. I begged, I prayed with 
fervour that he should return — give me some sign 


BEREAVEMENT. 


868 


— some word of recognition — a last token of love.” 
She wildly looked behind her, greatly perturbed. 

Dichy Dick, would you believe it, after my suppli- 
cation I was struck with fear lest my behest 
might be granted ! I was palsied — the thought 
flashed through my brain, such a miracle would kill 
me i Dick, the pallid icy feature seemed to soften 
and relax. A quiver seemed to stir the eyelids ! 
Oh ! Dick ! Dick ! I am afraid ! I am afraid ! ” 

Suddenly, with remarkable nerve she stifled 
her sobs, dried her eyes, held herself in silence a 
moment, to acquire self-control and steady her 
force. Then, with the marvellous resignation great 
grief often develops in an instant in the frailest, 
most timid natures, she approached the casket, 
lifted the napkin from her fathers face, took a 
single rose from the profusion of flowers strewn 
about him without formal arrangement. She kissed 
the flower passionately, then slipped it with loving- 
ness into the palm of his hand, and softly kissed the 
marbled forehead, and turning towards Dick, signed 
her wish to leave the room. 

Thank God,” she said with sweet submission, 
now it is all over. I do not wish to look upon 
him again.” 

Child-woman that she was, she now experienced 
for her bereavement a degree of reconciliation she 
had struggled royally to achieve, and she did not 
dare tempt herself to fresh irresolution. 

Strong in her conviction of her personal weak- 
ness, she appeared to armour herself in uncalled-for 


864 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


fortitude. Worldly carpers said, Of course she 
had not the keen attachment for her father she 
would have had if reared by him. Her grief is only 
moderate, will blow over in a month.” Others 
said, " What can you expect ? she was an adopted 
daughter.” And yet others, She's a horn actress. 
Hasn’t an atom of heart.” 

She was utterly ignorant of these invidious 
comments — which, had she known, would not 
have ruffled her conscientiousness a particle. 
She knew her own heart, and was far above the 
criticisms of outsiders. She scorned all these. Her 
sorrow was her own. This was one of her inherited 
qualities cropping out, exampled by her father. 

Obviously, it was far better to make the funeral 
absolutely private at an unseasonable hour, and 
thus avoid notoriety or a display of grief. 

All of Mr Severance’s ideas, which he had fre- 
quently expatiated upon at length, respecting 
the desirability of simplicity in funerals, were as 
far as practicable carried out. 

A settled acceptance had come to these bereft 
ones, when an official order was brought by a 
deputy coroner, stating in substance that De La 
Rue’s body must be brought back to the house, 
and Mr Severance must not be buried until a 
second coroner’s inquest, which would convene 
at nine o’clock the next morning. 

This was indeed terrible to submit to without 
remonstrance. 

What does it mean, Dick ? ” Clarisse asked 


BEREA.VEMENT. 


in consternation. ‘*Do you think there is any 
reason to suspect — oh ! no, no, it cannot be ! ” 
Some hideous idea possessed Clarisse. She felt 
she must make her struggle all over. How 
bitter. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


THE VERDICT. 


“ It must appear 
That malice bears down truth. ” 



'HE stark corpses of foe and foe, were placed 


-L once more side by side. A thorough, regu- 
lar medical and legal examination of all the facts 
and conditions had been made for the second time. 
There remained only the cross-questioning of certain 
interested persons before the jury entered a verdict. 

The closed doors were opened, and all were 
admitted to the coroner’s inquest who chose to 
come, for the law allowed of no privacy. 

All eyes were scrutinisingly directed towar<h 
Clarisse. She evinced such a degree of fright 
and perturbation, her grief became secondary. This 
was a suspicious fact, taken in connection with the 
French Consul’s note to the coroner, the accusatory 
tenor of which was the cause of the present rein- 
vestigation — an unusual and questionable legal 
procedure, submitted to by the family through 
utter ignorance of the law in its integrity. 

The French Consul had deposed that he was 
in possession of documentary evidence, that Count 


THE VERDICT. 


867 


De La Rue apprehended a mortal encounter the very 
night of the tragic occurrence, and that he (the 
Consul), despite the lightning episode, strongly 
suspected that some member of Mr Severance’s 
family was cognizant of the nature of the feud, and 
should be cross-examined. However, he challenged 
the first hasty verdict. 

After due administration of the usual oath, the 
coroner turned upon Clarisse abruptly, and demanded 
rather than asked : 

Miss Severance, have you any reason to imagine 
that Mr Severance, your father, and Count De La 
Rue had cause for an altercation upon the night 
of the calamity ? ” 

She hesitated, and glanced enquiringly at Dick, 
whose countenance was blackened through rage. 
Observing this, before waiting for her answer the 
coroner accosted Dick sharply : 

“ Perhaps, later on, sir, you may have an 
undisputed opportunity to give your testimony; 
meanwhile, the court insists that the witnesses in- 
terrogated should not be prompted. Well, now. 
Miss Severance, the court awaits an answer to the 
question.” 

What question ? ” she asked, as if awakening 
from a dream. 

“ My dear young lady, you must give the court 
your undivided attention. Do you know whether 
there was any reason to presuppose that these two 
gentlemen,” he pointed to the corpses, “ had any 
altercation the night of the disaster?” She 


368 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


faltered an instant. “ Do not hesitate, Miss, the 
question is simple. Do you, or do you not ? Yes, 
or no ? •’ 

“ I do not,” she managed to reply. 

“ Miss Severance, then the court is to under- 
stand that you do not ? ” 

Sir, I do not,” gasped Clarisse, racked by the 
brutal manner and fierce glare of the coroner, who 
delighted in torturing inexperienced witnesses, and 
confusing their testimony. 

“ Then, Miss Severance, the court is to under- 
stand that you have no knowledge of any personal 
unpleasantness between these two gentlemen ? ” He 
pointed again at the two bodies, as he uttered with 
a taunting undercurrent of doubt, ‘‘ do, or do you 
not know ? ” He bent his eyes more fixedly than 
heretofore upon Clarisse with a cruel, hard sus- 
picion. 

The poor child trembled violently. Her face gradu- 
ally assumed the palor and rigidity of the dead. Her 
tongue clove to the roof of her mouth, and after a futile 
effort to speak, she shook her head. This act aroused 
the bullying spirit of the officer of the law, who 
was so accustomed to crime. He was callous to all 
the delicate feelings experienced by refined natures 
in calamitous affliction. He was like a blood- 
hound on the scent of a refugee from the law. 
Without respect to person or circumstance, during 
an inquest everybody present was a suspect to him. 
He had always difficulty from convicting alike the 
victim and the guilty. Again he glowered at her. 


THE VERDICT. 


869 


** Miss Severance, your useless evasion will not 
spare you. In fulfilment of my sworn duties, I 
must insist upon an immediate and straightforward 
out-and-out answer. Do you, or do you not know 
of any personal disagreement between these two 
gentlemen ? ” He drew his dirty forefinger across 
the brows of both of the corpses, inured to death and 
more of a legal butcher than aught else. Man's, 
beast’s, or bird’s flesh was the same to him. 

Clarisse involuntarily rose at his act of desecration, 
when his finger trailed across her father’s forehead. 
She looked the personification of defiance, holding 
up her hands to stay off a recurrence of his offen- 
sive act. 

“5ir, I know nothmg, nothing'' she emphati- 
cally retorted, 

‘‘ Ahem ! ” he cleared his throat, “ Ahem ! we are 
getting to the bottom of this matter.” Clarisse 
swayed on her feet ; even he was touched by her 
appearance, and said, “ Don’t stand. Miss Severance.” 

She sat down. Her eyes burned like coals of 
fire; the violet circles were extending far down 
over her ghastly cheeks. She felt herself to be 
drifting out of herself. Her heart seemed clasped 
and iron-bound, in the conscious horror of the 
accursed oath she had exacted from her father. 
‘'My God, pity me,” she murmured to herself. 
“ Oh, if some one would only speak to me — touch 
me.” Then came the tormentor’s last twist of the 
rack. 

“Miss Severance,” he bavrled out, “having 
2 A 


370 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


taken your oath,” — this word was like a sword of 
fire slashing her brain, — “ I must remind you that 
perjury is one of the greatest offences against the 
law.” A murmur of discontent floated over the 
assembled persons, at which the coroner lowered 
his eyebrows in a black frown, testily saying, 
“ I must insist upon the strict observance of the 
requirements of decorum during this inquest.” 

These words were no sooner spoken, than a gentle- 
man arose. He was the former law partner of Mr 
Severance, and his legal adviser at the time of his 
death — a well-known district attorney, of high 
repute. 

“Mr Coroner, in compliance with law,” he said, 
in a dignified, severe manner, “ I must likewise 
insist that my client. Miss Severance, is not on 
trial for a criminal offence. Moreover, under 
existing circumstances, you are overstepping the 
province of your office, to ply Miss Severance 
with such questions.” Then turning to Clarisse, 
“ Miss Severance, you will decline any further 
answers, unless I authorise you to the contrary.” 
He crossed the room and sat down beside her, 
as if to back her up should she weaken. She 
was grateful, to the innermost depths of her being. 

The coroner, somewhat flustered, yet knowing 
he was supreme at these inquests, retorted savagely, 
“ Mr Thoroughgoud, my chief judicial business 
in this inquest is to find out how these two 
gentlemen came to their death. The house was 
struck by lightning, and there are distinct marks 


THE VERDICT. 


871 


of the tracks of the electric fluid on Mr Severance’s 
person , — indisputable traces ; but, Mr Thorough- 
good, unfortunately ,” — he kept matching the tips 
of his outstretched fingers, bending his hands far 
back, at the same time throwing his elbows out- 
wards, as he reiterated, more emphatically and more 
superciliously than at first, — unfortunately, Mr 
Thoroughgood, we find upon Count De La Kue’s 
head,” he now bent over the Frenchman’s corpse, 
and touched the contused, empurpled spot, “ here 
is a mortal fracture, evidently produced by a 
paper-weight, found clutched in Mr Severance’s 
hand, and not by the lightning. Therefore, sir, 
in behalf of law and justice, it is this court’s 
duty to investigate and judge as to the rights 
of the case. Moreover, there are certain sus- 
picions of foul play, which we propose to sift 
to the bottom.” 

This was like a bomb suddenly exploding. 
Every one started. Mr Thoroughgood rose in- 
stantly to his feet. 

Mr Coroner, gentlemen of the jury, in behalf of 
my client. Miss Severance, I ask, how came Count 
De La Rue in Mr Severance’s house after midnight ? 
Why did he enter, like a thief, the back way ? 
Why did he carry a dagger ? Finally, what means 
the open casket, and jewels strewn in disorder over 
the floor ? If Count De La Rue violently or 
stealthily effected an entrance into Mr Severance’s 
private domain, and an encounter ensued, the l^w 
says, without quibble,” — he crossed the room. 


872 


HERBERT SEVERANCE, 


and took a book from the mantel-shelf, where 
he had evidently taken the precaution to deposit 
it, and opened it to a marked place, and read : 
“ Stephen’s Commentaries,” vol. iv. pages 5 0 and 
51 — ‘"7/ any person attempts the robbery or 
murder of another, or attempts to break open a 
house in the night time, and shall he killed in 
such attempt, either by the party assaulted or the 
owner of the house, or the servant attendant upon 
either, or by any person present, interposing 
to prevent mischief, the slayer shall be acquittedj 
and discharged** He closed the hook. ‘‘Hence, 
admitting the hypothesis that Mr Severance in- 
flicted a mortal blow upon that man, he did 
so in self-defence. The law justifies him. And 
yet, again, the evidence given by the French 
Consul, proves beyond contravention that Count De 
La Rue premeditated — mildly speaking — a peril- 
ous encounter ; whereas, there has been nothing 
educed from that, or other evidence in the case, 
to show that Mr Severance contemplated violence, 
or was cognizant of Count De La Rue’s scheme. 
However, as both the would-be plaintiff and 
defendant lie dead, and there are no eye-witnesses 
to the fatal disaster, I must insist, for common 
decency, as well as for law and justice, that the 
testimony of the medico-legal authority be taken 
as final, and the verdict be left to the jury.” Thus 
concluding, he sat down, the object of eternal 
gratitude of all persons concerned, save the legal 
martmet. 


THE VERDICT. 


873 


With ill-concealed temper the coroner rapidly 
glanced about the room, until his searching eyes lit 
upon the medico-legal expert in question. 

“ Doctor Clark, the court and jury await your 
testimony.” Then in a tone maliciously servile, 
“ As we are a body of honest but unscientific men, 
pray testify as clearly and untechnically as possible 
what your autopsy goes to prove as to the pro- 
bability that one of these bodies bears the marks 
of lightning” — then triumphantly looking at Mr 
Thoroughgood — '"and the other does not, hut with 
a mark of violence upon his temple'; ” he glared 
upon his opponent, repeating, " A mark of violence, 
resulting from a murderous blow sufficient to have 
caused death, and produced by an implement re- 
maining in the other man’s — the assailant’s — 
hands ? ” 

This outrageous attempt to warp the doctor’s 
evidence, and stamp upon the jurymen’s minds the 
verdict that he, their chief, desired, incited an 
audible murmur against one so prostituting the 
functions of his office. 

All eyes were quickly centred upon the doctor. He 
rose unhesitatingly, stepped forward, and took the 
usual oath without losing an unnecessary moment. 
His appearance in itself imparted to all present, 
before he uttered a word, a surety that he, at least, 
would give a fair, scientific opinion, unbiased by any 
such legal suspicions or preconceived bearings, jpro 
or con, in deviation from the facts in the case as 
that voiced by the coroner. 


374 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


“ Mr Coroner, gentlemen of the jury. The 
subtlety of the electric fluid, its eccentric and swift 
deflections from its main course before being spent 
in a full discharge, are well known to every investi- 
gator of the subject. Albeit, unaccounted for by 
our-present limit of science, they remain neverthe- 
less incontrovertible facts. After a full and com- 
plete examination made by myself and colleagues 
at the autopsy upon the two subjects, I unhesitat- 
ingly pronounce that there can be no doubt that 
Mr Severance was struck dead by lightning. 
From his posture, evidently he was standing when 
smitten, whereas Count De La Rue was either about 
to rise, or about to sit down. The concussion, 
caused by the electric fluid as it shot through Mr 
Severance’s body, following some law of deflection, 
also occasioned Count De La Rue’s instantaneous 
death, and was conducted through the floor to the 
basement.” 

Every one was wrapt in breathless attention, 
hanging upon every word this man uttered. 

“ The fracture of Count De La Rue’s cranium, 
without the slightest extravasation of blood in or 
about the wound, 'proves conclusively it was for- 
tuitously inflicted after or at the time of death by 
the paper-weight found in Mr Severance’s hand, as 
he fell forward upon Count De La Rue likewise 
stricken. I may say the discoloration upon his head 
resembles other discolorations upon various parts 
of the bodies of both subjects, and has no special 
significance. There is no violence indicated in the 


THE VERDICT. 


876 


muscles of the arm of Mr Severance. Had he been 
guilty of a murderous assault at the moment of his 
calamity, the rigidity of the tendons, the gathered 
hardness of the muscular tissues would have been 
visible immediately after death, when the autopsy 
was made. There is no surmise in these well- 
established conditions. Therefore, Mr Coroner, 
gentlemen of the jury, on my oath, I solemnly 
before God pronounce the death of Mr Severance 
and Count De La Rue to have been simultaneous, 
and caused by lightning.” 

An expression of satisfaction was audibly emitted 
from every lip, save from the piqued coroner. 

Clarisse threw her arms up, exclaiming : 

“Thank God!” 

No one stirred. All awaited the ominous 
charge of the coroner to his jury. 

“ Gentlemen of the jury, you have heard the 
evidence and testimony in this inquest, what is 
your verdict ? ” 

The foreman arose, after the jury spent a few 
moments in deliberation. 

“Your honour, we pronounce on our oath, before 
God and man, to our best knowledge and belief, 
a verdict of instantaneous and simultaneous death, 
caused by lightning in the case of Mr Severance, 
and likewise in the case of Count De La Rue.” 

The court was dismissed. The people went 
their way. All restrictions were removed. The 
coroner sent Count De La Rue’s body to the city 
mortuary to await instructions from the French 
Consul. 


876 


HEBBERT SEVERANCE. 


Mr Severance's little family, including Edith, 
crushed by their calamitous affliction, were, despite 
the verdict, dumbly overpowered with their tacit 
suspicion that one had, in avenging, been summoned 
instantly red-handed to that highest Tribunal. 
Silent in their convictions, yet they were bound 
as by some inviolable oath to one another to guard 
their terrible suspicion mutely for ever. 


CHAPTER XXy. 


THE MARRIAGK 

“ So be it ! Perish Babel ! Arise Babylon I 
From ruins like these rise the fanes that shall last. 

And to build up the future Heaven shatters the past/' 

OPEEDY arrangements were being made to inter 
Mr Severance privately the next morning. 
Edith and Mrs Bleecker, after an earnest confer- 
ence, decided, in consequence of the concatenation 
of affairs, as well as the shock they dreaded re- 
action would bring to Clarisse, and, more than all, 
her aloneness, to urge upon her and Dick an im- 
mediate marriage. No one could deem such action 
other than wise. It would put an end to the 
unconscionable rumours that would fly hither and 
thither like feathers in a whirlwind, and stick 
with the tar of aspersion in spite of truth. 

Dick must henceforth be CJarisse’s refuge. The 
precious chance, the one grain of hope denied her 
poor mother, fate kindly dropped in her balance. 
He would shelter her from the rough winds of a 
cruel world. He would be her invincible strong- 
hold, naught should ever tempt her to forsake. 
From the abyss of their present affliction they 
would climb, step by step, arm in arm, to the 


378 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


Ijeigbts. They would seek to live in earnest, 
bearing their fardels as bravely as though robes of 
cloth of gold, apart from the purposeless fangled- 
world of humbuggery. 

Above in that room where Clarisse had so short 
a time before flown to get away from the phantoms 
of her vagaries to the arms of the dearly beloved 
father, crept she now alone — alone, to hold a last 
solemn communion with all that remained of her 
revered father. 

Poor child, she once more shrank with dread 
and horror from the helpless* harmless, pallid 
object that but yesterday was her grand, glorious 
father ; now, now, heaven help her, was that cold, 
stark, clammy, unimpersonalized thing, she again 
feared to approach. 

She felt overawed, but why ? Great God, bend 
down from on high, and breathe into mortals hearts 
some solution for this nameless revulsion. Teach 
human creatures, bereft of those beloved, that in the 
transition from life to death, there can be no sudden 
unloosing of incarnate, awful horrors. It passeth 
human ken. The sensible rational being, filled 
with the robust vigour, the power of life, cows down 
with an irresistible shrinking before the insensible, 
cold, marbled corpse, soulless, lifeless, speechless, 
but so appalling ! 

Suddenly Clarisse, in her bewilderment, through 
some allurement from an invisible source, recalled 
an old fable of a king whose army was slaughtered 


THE MARRIAGE. 


376 


mercilessly, and vanquishment impended, when an 
elf visited his dreams, saying, “ Sire, do not despise 
me, but make me thy prime minister, and I’ll 
conquer thy enemies,” the king with scorn replied, 
“ Avaunt pretender 1 Conquer thou mine enemies, 
and to thee I’ll give my crown.” “ Sire, thy crown 
would crush me ! I ask but to be as thy sceptre. 
Sire, thou art noble and most kingly, with majesty 
of mien, but alack-a-day! I, sire, I am the sneak- 
ing demon yclept Fear I ” 

The king consented. The elf caused all the 
dead warriors to be arrayed in solid phalanxes, in 
jict of wielding with stitfened gory arms, battle-axes, 
and spears. The enemy’s forces .dashed upon the 
seemingly uprisen foe. Ceaselessly they charged ; 
spent their strength as they bore down upon the 
invincible warriors, but the spectre warriors un- 
shaken, stood like a granite wall. Finally the 
enemy stole up, peered ’neath the invincibles’ 
helmets, into their glassy eyes, fell ^down aghast 
conquered by Fear ! Easy captives through super- 
stition to the king and his eldritch prime minister. 

This seemed to comfort her. She thought it is 
nought but fear of the unknown intimidates me. 
It is, as it were, the standing on the border of 
terra incognitay and having the impassable barrier 
dropped before you. No one can wrest the oipen 
sesanu from those who have passed beyond. . . . 
It is a thing, not of the volition, but the unavoid- 
able sweep of Death s scythe. Helpless, hopeless 
mortality, ye must have faith. The bereft heart is 


880 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


chill, and rent by the loss when once it realises its 
bereavement The death-lock so fastly set upon 
loving lips — the lull of the pulses — the slip- 
ping out of that intangible sovereign called the 
mind, the spirit, the soul, that essence of personality, 
whatsoever you will — the void inevitably made by 
the extinguishment of life — the shrouded mystery 
Plato reasoneth about — the incomprehensible, no 
one has absolutely solved — puts the living soul in 
pillory till the attrition of time does its work of 
assuagement. 

Clarisse had yesterday thought this struggle all 
ended. Events had conspired otherwise. Now 
she prayed for fresh strength, for fresh courage. 
Her heart in sorrow was eloquent with upraised, 
inarticulate outreachings to the Almighty. Finally 
she became used to the solemn hush of the room. 
She stole beside the casket in which reclined the 
body of her fathei*. Divested of the hideous sheet, 
there his noble form, calm, peaceful, dignified, 
manly, in his own garb, as though wan and 
weary he just slept. The terror lifted from 
her. Her sorrow became pre-eminent. She knelt 
and grasped the cold hands, inclined her head 
upon the stalwart breast, wept not, but mused in 
strange wise. 

“ This, then, beloved father, is my retribution for 
exacting that dreadful vow. Oh, how could heaven 
thus take you from me. I dreamed to bring you 
blessings, to make you supremely happy ; all now 
80 cruelly blighted. Oh, my God 1 Oh, my God 1 


THE MARRIAGE. 


381 


What can I do to show my penitence V* The 
flood-gates of grief were opened ; she sobbed and 
sobbed convulsively, till her spent nature sank once 
more into meditative silence. Her girlhood was of 
the past, she had entered the domain of woman- 
hood. 

The door opened gently and Dick entered, the 
personification of manly grief. He had been struck 
hard — too hard to moan. He stepped up to 
Clarisse, and lifted her tenderly from her kneeling 
posture, held her in his arms, her upturned face 
enfolded to his breast, looked deep, fairly, search- 
ingly into her eyes, and asked in earnest accents : 

Clarisse, do you love me all in all ? ” 

‘‘ Dick, Dick, my father is gone ; I love nobody 
but you.” 

Well, my poor, bereaved girl, let us try to rise 
above our unhappy desolation. Let us make our 
lives what he had hoped we should.” He con- 
sidered silently a few moments, then spoke out 
fearlessly, “Clarisse, my darling, I want you to 
consent to be married to-night, by fathers side.” 
She shuddered, and imstmctively drew back. “Yes, 
Clarisse, with our hands in his, as though he 
pronounced a benediction upon us.” 

“ Oh, Dick, Dick ! that seems too awful I 
“ No, Clarisse. Just think how blessed would 
be our union if he had been spared to give us one 
to the other. Then, darling, think how blessed 
to have these dear, noble hands,” — he bent over 
his uncle s form, and kissed passionately the pallid 


382 


HERBERT SEVERANCE. 


hands bathed by his splashing tears, — his hands, 
perform this last office for us, whonj he loved above 
all else. It will soften our heart-break pain. Say 
yes, Clarisse.” 

** Yes, Dick, I say yes. I seem to feel his 
presence. I am resigned.” 

Kingston, Mr and Mrs Bleecker, and Edith 
entered the room in attendance upon the Rev. 
Edward Judson, who pronounced the marriage 
service in a manner impressive and enhalJowed. 

When the clergyman said, “ Who . gives this 
woman to this man ? ” 

Clarisse stepped up to her father’s body, took 
both his hands in hers, and answered, “ My father, 
which art in Heaven” 


FINIS. 


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